Sooner Or Later
by Potato19
Summary: Post-Hogwarts. One year after the Victory over Voldemort, Hermione Granger is finally graduating and Harry Potter is worryingly restless. What follows is a summer of mutual attraction, new discoveries and a misplaced 'friends with benefits' deal that will alter the most important relationship that they have.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Harry Potter Universe. No copyright infringement intended.

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AN: This is a different type of story than I usually write and I wasn't sure if I wanted to publish it. The characters, I think, are quite OOC, so I don't know how it's all going to turn out.

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 **Chapter One**

"Harry Potter! You get out here right now!"

The wizard in question waited a beat before he stood up from his desk and left his bedroom to find Hermione Granger glaring at him, a severely unimpressed look taking hostage of her otherwise perfect face. She was dressed smartly, in a navy blue knee-length dress, and Harry had to admit that she looked rather pretty.

Even through her obvious anger.

"Hi," he said, grinning at her.

"Don't 'hi' me," she snapped. "What on earth are you doing?"

He faked innocence. "What do you mean what am I doing?"

She absently placed her hands on her hips, preparing to scold him like the little boy that she decided he was in this moment. "Aren't you supposed to be somewhere right now?"

Harry looked nonplussed as he shook his head. "Hermione, I don't know what you're talking about."

Hermione forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. She could tell he knew exactly why she was here and she had to fight her growl of frustration. "Get dressed," she said through gritted teeth. "We're going right now!"

Harry folded his arms across his chest. "I'm not going anywhere," he said simply.

"What?"

"I'm not going anywhere," he repeated. "I'm not going."

"What do you mean you're not going?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "I mean what I mean," he said dryly. "I don't even know why you're here. I already told Kingsley that I wasn't attending."

Hermione paused at that. "You did what?"

"Oh, sure, now it's _your_ turn to pretend you don't know what we're talking about," he muttered, absently leaning against his door frame.

"Don't get smart with me, Potter!" she hissed, clearly not in the mood for his antics. "When did you tell Kingsley you weren't attending?"

"When he personally delivered my invitation," he explained. "Didn't he tell you?"

"No, he didn't tell me," she muttered. "Why didn't you?"

"Why didn't I what?"

"Why didn't _you_ tell me you weren't going to attend?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. "I've spent the last hour assuring people that Harry Potter was on his way!"

Harry was unable to stop his smile. "You did what?"

"Don't you look at me like that," she said, folding her own arms. "Get dressed. We're going. Your name is on the list. You're supposed to be giving a speech in twenty minutes."

"I'm what?" he asked, his eyes wide. "Since when? No ways!"

Hermione shook her head, letting out a long sigh. "Kingsley knew that I would come and get you," she said, sounding defeated. "He _knew_ I'd be the only one who could convince you to come."

Harry swallowed. "But I already told him I wasn't going."

"And he didn't listen."

Harry turned his piercing green eyes on her, something changing in his expression as much as his tone. "Please don't make me go, Hermione. I don't want to be back there."

That did it.

Hermione moved towards him and wrapped him up in her arms, her anger from earlier dissipating quite suddenly. She held him for quite some time before she pulled back. "Okay, but I'd appreciate being told next time," she said, fully releasing him. "And, does this really mean that you're _never_ going to go back?"

Harry read her facial expression for what it was, seeing the moment of vulnerability cross her pretty features. He gently took hold of her wrist and pulled her close enough so she could _feel_ the intensity of his gaze. "I promise, Hermione Granger, that I will be at your Hogwarts' graduation. I'll be right in front, clapping the loudest, for the smartest witch of our generation. You can always count on me."

Hermione could do nothing more but believe him when he did things like this, making such intense vows of seemingly normal things. It was just something in his eyes that made every promise he made sound so severe; sound as if it were a matter of life and death to him.

Hermione swallowed. "I should probably get back," she said, stepping back from him, needing to breathe air that wasn't so intoxicating. "I suppose that I've now got to give the speech you were supposed to be giving."

"You'll do it so much better than I ever could," he told her seriously. "Our Victory over Voldemort is more yours than it would ever be mine."

Hermione had to hug him again, using his reassuring presence to keep herself calm but she still felt particularly emotional when she released him. "Okay, I should go," she said, stepping back again. "I'll see you on Friday night maybe. Unless you've got plans with Rose?"

Harry gave her a sideways look, even snorting for good measure.

"Oh right, how could I forget?" she said, rolling her eyes. "Harry Potter never dates a girl twice."

Harry said nothing.

Hermione sighed. "One of these days you're going to find a girl who's going to steal your heart, Harry Potter."

"Not if I have anything to do with it," he said cheekily, throwing her a whimsical look that he knew she loved.

She just shook her head. "I should go, but I really don't want to," she said sadly. "Tell me to go."

Harry stepped towards her and placed his hands on each of her shoulders, making her shudder. "Hermione, as Head Girl of Hogwarts, you are expected back at the Great Hall, in order to deliver the speech about the one year anniversary of Voldemort's defeat because your awful best friend decided that he couldn't handle it." He took a breath. "Now go. Your adoring public awaits your arrival. I will see you on Friday."

She smiled at him. "Thank you, Harry."

"Anytime, Hermione."

With that, Hermione stepped away from him, turned and walked into the living room. She gave him one last wave before she Disapparated out of the apartment, leaving Harry alone for what felt like the thousandth time since they'd moved in. He stared at the spot she'd just vacated for a long moment, wondering idly what he had to do to get her to stay. For good.

Harry returned to his bedroom eventually, sitting back down at his desk, and resuming his excessive planning. He hadn't spoken to anyone about this particular project and he didn't intend to do that until all his plans were finalised and set into motion. For once, he was being tight-lipped about something, even when it concerned his best friends.

When he'd decided not to attend the Victory Day celebrations, Harry had been resolute. He wanted nothing to do with turning the day that they lost so many into a national holiday. Of course, he could see the merit in giving the Wizarding World belief that the worst was finally behind them, but Harry just couldn't do it. He didn't want to _have_ to, and he appreciated the fact that Ron and Hermione understood that.

Seeing Hermione on this day had just been a bonus, really. He missed her when she was at school. He also missed Ron, more than he would ever admit to the redhead. They were both just so busy with their own lives, and Harry felt like he was stuck.

With nothing really to do, during his self-professed year of sabbatical, Harry did find himself getting lonely from time to time.

Like right now.

Harry stood up quite abruptly. He had to find something to do. Or just _someone_ to do. He even laughed at that, as he walked around the apartment, searching for something to occupy his mind. He'd had almost a full year of being on holiday and he was itching to do something, _anything_.

Making a decision, Harry gathered his pages from his desk and left the apartment, intent on working to further his plans.

Sometimes he just hated the silence.

Harry didn't return until much later, feeling rather satisfied with the day's work. He expected to find it empty but he was pleasantly surprised to find Ron in the living room, watching television like he sometimes did when he was feeling especially adventurous. The volume was much higher than necessary but Harry wouldn't comment. Harry couldn't bring himself to stomp on Ron's seemingly endless fascination.

Ron was boisterous with his laughter right until the moment that he spotted Harry. He immediately lifted the remote and turned off the television.

"There you are," Ron said, giving his friend a curious look. "We missed you today."

Harry said nothing as he flopped down onto the couch. "Has it really been going on all day?"

Ron nodded. "Pretty much. Got home about a half hour ago."

"How was Hermione's speech?" he felt he had to ask.

"Great," he said. "I don't think there was a dry eye in the Great Hall."

"Including you?"

Ron scoffed at that. "I'm a man."

Harry just laughed. "I didn't think you'd be home," he admitted thoughtfully.

"I needed to talk to you about something," he said, sounding particularly grave for Ronald Weasley. "It's about Hermione."

That definitely got Harry's attention and he sat up straight. "What about Hermione?"

"There was something weird going on when I was there," he said. "Between her and Michael Corner, the Head Boy. I asked her about it but she wouldn't tell me anything."

Harry was frowning. "Do you think that they're involved?"

"If they are, they're incredibly hostile towards each other," Ron said. "Should we be worried? I mean, I know she can take care of herself, but I've never liked that Michael Corner so I might be biased."

Harry wasn't sure how he felt about talking to Ron about Hermione's potential dating life. It just felt like bad form as her best friends but even he had to admit that, if they weren't the ones to look out for her, who else would?

"I think you should talk to her," Ron said to Harry.

His eyes widened. "Me?"

Ron nodded. "She won't hex _you_ if you're the one to bring it up, but she would straight up murder me if I even so much as opened my mouth about it."

Harry had to agree with that. "She said she's coming home on Friday. I'll talk to her then."

"Great," he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "Can we have dinner now? I'm starving."

Harry laughed. "Didn't they feed you?"

Ron just stared at him. "I don't see what your point is."

Harry enjoyed this. Spending time with his friends, occupying his mind, stopping his thoughts from running amok. It was hard to believe that it had already been an entire year since the end of the War. For Harry, it felt like everything and nothing had happened in that time.

His decision not to join the Auror Academy hadn't gone down well with those at the Ministry, and his decision not to go back to Hogwarts made Hermione not talk to him for a couple of days.

Harry rather made the decision to do _nothing_ for a while, and he didn't think that anyone could begrudge him that. He had things to figure out, things to experience and he was going to start living by his own rules for the first time in his life.

Hermione eventually came around and Kingsley, well, he was still trying to rope Harry in to all sorts of Ministry events. As yet, Harry managed to avoid them all. He knew, at some point, he would have to make an appearance somewhere.

He was sure that the newspapers would be rife with all sorts of theories about why Harry didn't attend the Victory Day celebrations in the morning, and he wasn't wrong.

"It's laughable," Ron finally concluded, setting the _Daily Prophet_ down on the kitchen table. "We just celebrated an entire year without Voldemort and all these bloody people care about is where the Vanquisher of the Dark Lord was. I don't know how you stand this, Harry."

Harry just shrugged. "Kingsley must be fuming."

"You reckon this is why he wanted you there, mate? To stop all the sensationalism about your absence?"

Harry just shrugged again. "There are more important things to be worrying about," Harry finally concluded. "It's not my fault that newspapers these days have turned into tabloids."

Ron had to agree. "They even ran a story on me and Luna the other day," he said. "I wish they could just leave us alone, you know?"

Harry did _know_. He'd spent years trying to explain it all to Ron.

Harry's life was much publicised. Most of everything that he did was written about, but he was quite proud of the fact that he was able to keep his project a secret for so long. Not even Hermione knew about it, and the two of them didn't have many secrets, if any at all.

Which was really why, when Harry went to bed that night, he was feeling apprehensive. He didn't want to have that conversation with Hermione but he had to accept that it might be necessary. He just wasn't sure that he _wanted_ to know what his best friend got up to; the same way he wouldn't want her to know about his various exploits with the opposite sex.

Even though, he was sometimes ashamed to say, his various activities of the night did make it into the back pages of some newspapers. His high profile had him linked with every witch who was _any_ body from London to the Isle of Man.

Harry supposed that he and Hermione really _were_ those sorts of friends, but there had to be a line, didn't they? They'd always been able to talk to each other about anything and everything, but surely this conversation would be deemed... inappropriate?

All too soon, Friday was upon them and Hermione was home for the weekend, bringing along her books as was the usual. She normally retreated into her own bedroom for the night after having dinner with her boys, and spent the evening working, which was what she did this particular night as well.

Really, Harry was surprised that she didn't notice that something was up with him. Maybe it was the way he'd so eagerly asked about her speech, and the way he'd listened attentively. He tended to do that. He missed her so much during the week that he practically hung onto every word she said, whenever she was talking about the life she lived without him.

In the end, Ron practically had to shove Harry towards her closed bedroom door. The raven-haired wizard glared at his friend for a good minute before he conceded and went to knock on Hermione's door. He waited for the first sound of her voice before he turned the handle and entered.

Hermione was sitting at her desk, her sleeves rolled up, her hair tied up in a messy bun and a quill balanced behind her ear. She looked at him expectantly as he made his way over to her bed and sat down far enough on its edge to allow his feet to dangle.

"Harry?" she prompted, eyeing him curiously.

He managed a smile. "You know, you look so pretty with your untied," he found himself saying and then wondered _why_ he'd said such a thing.

Hermione shifted so she could face him properly, her cheeks tinging pink at his unexpected compliment. "Umm, Harry?"

He also blushed. "Sorry, that came out of nowhere. Umm, I, we, well..." he paused to take a breath. "I just wanted to know if everything was okay."

Hermione eyed him carefully. "With regards to?"

He swallowed. "Umm, everything," he offered. "School, life in general, your parents, boys."

She sighed. "Ron asked you to do this, didn't he?"

Harry felt stuck between a rock and a hard place. "What?"

"You want to know about Michael?"

 _No!_ "I just want to know that _you're_ okay," he said, trying to save himself from the narrowing of her eyes. She could get very scary when she was mad.

Hermione sighed. "I suppose it would do me some good to talk about it."

Harry did his best not to react. He was caught between relief that she was going to talk to him and the sudden urge to flee. He still wasn't sure he really _wanted_ to know whatever had happened.

"We started to date just after Christmas," she admitted.

"Why didn't you tell us?" It wasn't asked as an accusation but it just sort of flew out of his mouth before he could stop it. They weren't supposed to keep secrets from each other.

She seemed to think about that for a moment. "I don't know, but it probably had something to do with the way you both act when there are other boys in my life."

"That's because we'll always be the most important, right?" he asked, forcing himself to smile at her.

She smiled slightly. "Of course, Harry."

"So then what happened?"

She cleared her throat. "We spent a lot of time together, you know, and our relationship progressed quite far quite quickly, I sometimes think."

Harry went pale, his eyes widening as he understood her meaning. "You and Corner...?" he asked skeptically.

Hermione couldn't look him in the eye, feeling embarrassed for the first time. Why was she even telling him any of this? "Look, it was just what felt right at the time," she said, feeling like she had to defend herself. "I think that if I could think of it as just sex, it would fine, but we were in a relationship, you know? It didn't mean the same thing to him as it did to me apparently."

Harry suddenly felt uncomfortable.

"At least with you, all the girls you sleep with know that they'll be nothing more from you," she pointed out. "No emotional attachment, nothing. But I didn't have that with Michael. Well, _I_ didn't. We were _together_. A couple. I sometimes think he kind of just dated me to, umm, what do they say, _get in my pants_."

Harry's fists automatically clenched. "Do you want me to kill him? I'll fucking kill him, Hermione."

Hermione let out a haunting laugh. "No, please don't do that," she said, tilting her head to the side. "But thank you, really. It's just that, well, I suppose that I started to use him back," she said, her face portraying even more of her embarrassment.

He was confused. "Hermione?"

"I don't know why you didn't just tell me that sex was so great, Harry," she said, making him just that bit more uncomfortable. This conversation was definitely not going the way he'd anticipated. "I mean, I'd never understood the appeal before, but now I know."

He took a deep breath, desperately wishing he could disappear. He did not want to look at Hermione and see her as a sexual being. It was just a little too much for his little boy brain to handle for one lifetime. She was his best friend. This was too much.

Hermione continued anyway, needing to say this out loud. "So I think I'm done with relationships, for now, at least. Michael and I ended a few weeks ago, and he's being a right prat about it. Terry even asked me out but Michael apparently said something to him, and I just don't want to deal with the drama of immature boys."

Harry was still in a bit of shock at all of these revelations but he was able to fake it. "But you're okay, right?"

She nodded. "Of course. I can take care of myself, you know?"

"We know," he said, standing up and feeling a bit light-headed. "We just worry. You're the most important to us too."

"I think you're speaking for yourself there, Mr Potter. My mantle has been taken by Luna where Ron is concerned."

Harry had to agree with that. "Well, you're still the most important to me," he concluded. "I just want to see you happy, Hermione." And he meant it. If she were happy, and he could be the one to make her that way; his life would be complete.

She put her hand out, making him move towards her. She took hold of his hand and pulled him nice and close. "Thank you for looking out for me. I want to see you happy too, you know?"

"I know."

"Now get out," she chided playfully. "I have N.E.W.T.s to pass."

Harry laughed. "That's my cue." He bent down and kissed the top of her head, absently breathing in. He felt the strangest sensation stir in the pit of his stomach and he had a confused look on his face when he stood up straight.

"Everything okay, Harry?" Hermione asked, looking concerned.

He nodded. "Of course," he lied. "Just a little dizzy. Must have stood up too fast."

She just nodded. "Be careful."

"Later," he said, turning and heading towards the door. He felt really off-balance, like everything about his world had shifted without any warning. He grabbed hold of the door handle and turned back to look at Hermione.

She was just returning to her work, stretching slightly and resettling in her chair. Harry's eyes were drawn to the curve of the back of her neck. And then her straight back. And then her legs, hidden under the desk...

Harry shook his head. What the hell was going on with him? This was Hermione.

Who he now knew liked sex.

If _that_ didn't change the way he looked at her, he didn't know what would. Merlin, what was he expected to tell Ron now?

Harry opened the door and left the bedroom, desperately needing to breathe air that didn't smell like her. Of course, Ron was full of questions for Harry as soon as he spotted him and the raven-haired wizard was able to tell the redhead that Michael Corner and Hermione had dated and then suffered quite a bad breakup. He thought that was sufficient. He knew that Hermione trusted him not to reveal the rest.

Harry retired early, mainly because he wasn't feeling all that well. He wouldn't allow himself to accept that it had anything to do with Hermione, but more to do with his anger towards Corner. How dare he treat Hermione that way?

Harry knew that he used witches _that_ way, but it wasn't as if he gave them false hope. They always knew where he stood. He did not want a relationship. And, even if he did, he knew that he would treat that particular witch so much better than Corner ever treated Hermione. It still angered him to think about it. Hermione Granger was someone who had to be treated right, because she was great and honest and perfect.

Corner was a fucking idiot.

Despite his anger the previous night, Harry was feeling much better in the morning. He was even up and dressed before anyone else, which wasn't what normally happened. He made himself some breakfast before he spread himself out in the living room and watched early Saturday morning cartoons.

He wasn't ashamed to admit that they absolutely fascinated him. He'd missed out on them in his early childhood, and he was still trying to make up for it.

Hermione emerged from her bedroom first, still dressed in her pyjamas and a nightgown. Harry could only stare, really, even though there wasn't really much to see. What the fuck was wrong with him? _Yes, Harry, Hermione Granger is a girl. It's not such a surprise._

The thing was that Harry did know that his Hermione was beautiful. He'd seen her countless times before, but it felt different this time. The change was to do with him, not her. _He_ was the one seeing her differently, and it was starting to worry him.

He could get through this Saturday. He was sure of it. He was just reeling at the fact that he now knew a little too much about Hermione's love-life. That was it. A week would go by and everything would be back to normal. He wouldn't be feeling so tight in his clothes when she was around, and his body wouldn't immediately heat up at even the slightest contact. He was sure of it.

He had to be.

Somehow, Harry managed to survive the weekend, and then Hermione was gone for another week at Hogwarts. He'd never really wanted so much time alone before. He even went so far as to distract himself with other witches, which worked right until the moment Hermione was back for the following weekend, taunting him with the knowledge that she _liked sex_.

Harry quite hated that he was a typical boy all of a sudden. He could only imagine what painful things Hermione would do to him if she even knew what he was thinking. He was suddenly very grateful that she had never learned Legilimency.

"Brunch tomorrow?" Hermione asked Harry, cutting into his wandering thoughts.

"What?"

She smiled at him. "Someone's out of it," she observed, throwing a cushion at him from across the couch in their living room. "I said, are we still on for brunch tomorrow?"

"Of course."

She kept her eyes on him. "Is everything okay, Harry? You seem a little distracted."

 _It's you! You're so damn distracting!_ "I'm okay," he said, lying. "I just, I guess," he hesitated, unable to think of anything plausible. "I've got a lot on my mind."

"What could you possibly be thinking about?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in mild amusement. "All your girls. Struggling to juggle them all?"

Harry swallowed. "I resent that."

"It's the truth though, isn't it?"

"Well, it turns out that I'm not the only one who doesn't want to deal with the drama of relationships," he said pointedly. "It's easier this way, isn't it? And a lot more satisfying."

Hermione just shook her head. She hadn't expected this from her best friend at first but, in a way, she understood it. She couldn't blame him either. It was just surprising sometimes whenever she allowed herself to think about just how promiscuous the famous Harry Potter could be.

But he _was_ a teenage boy after all, and witches had always thrown themselves at him. She'd be questioning his sexuality if he didn't engage from time to time.

"It works though, doesn't it?" he added.

Hermione kept her eyes on him for a moment, searching for something, anything, in his gaze. "It does make getting a date to my Graduation Ball a little difficult though," she said, choosing not to agree with him until she'd actually _tried_ it.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Is that your not so subtle way of asking me to be your date, Hermione?"

Her eyes widened. "What? No! I didn't mean _that_."

He sat up to look at her properly. "It's okay," he said coyly. "Really, just say it. You're in a safe space here, Hermione. You want me to be your date. Go on then. Ask away."

"You're the worst," she muttered, throwing another cushion at him. "I wouldn't want to stroke your ever-growing ego by inviting _you_ of all people."

Harry scooted down the couch towards her. "This has nothing to do with my ego," he said seriously, his gaze turning that intense that always made her breath catch. She could practically feel it on her skin. "I'm offering, Hermione. If you don't want to ask someone else, you can always count on me. I promise I'll always be here for you."

There he went again with his severe promises. He was so close to her that she could feel the heat of him. "You'd really come with me?" she found herself asking, her voice barely a whisper.

"Of course," he answered easily.

"But I thought you didn't want to go back," she pointed out, giving him an out.

"I wouldn't go back for _them_ , Hermione, but I'd always go back for you. I'd do anything for you."

Hermione could barely handle his profound statements, and it was taking all she had not to fling her arms around him and never let him go. "Okay," she breathed.

His face broke into a smile and he threw his fist into the air. "Yes! I'm going to have the prettiest date in town!"

"Oh Harry," she chided softly.

"It's true," he said, meeting her gaze once more. "And I'm telling you right now that Corner is going to eat his heart out, Hermione. Anyone who hurts my friends will suffer the wrath of Harry Potter."

If anyone else had said the words, Hermione might have laughed. But this _was_ Harry Potter: he had faced off against the Darkest wizard to have lived, and he was loyal to a fault.

Just as she was.

"Harry," she breathed.

"Wow," he huffed, surprised at himself. "Did I just sound like _Darth Vader_ or what?"

She risked a smile, reaching to touch his forearm. "I told you that I don't need you to fight my battles, Harry."

"Who said anything about fighting a battle, Hermione?" he asked, raising an eyebrow somewhat coyly. "There are other ways to make a boy burn."

For a moment, Hermione just stared at him, trying to figure out who she was actually seeing in front of her. It was as if she didn't recognise him.

But then he smiled his lop-sided grin, and her heart stilled. "You are too important to me, Hermione. My number one, remember?"

She just nodded. "Okay."

Harry put a hand over hers, squeezing slightly. "Don't forget."

She wouldn't.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"You and Hermione looked awfully cozy at the Graduation Ball," Ron said, getting his friend's attention as they sat at the kitchen table for breakfast. It was rather early in the morning, and Harry secretly wanted to go back to sleep.

Harry didn't like the tone of Ron's voice. It was as if he knew something that Harry didn't. "What's that supposed to mean?" he found himself asking.

Ron raised his hands in innocence. "Nothing. Not really," he said, smiling slightly. "I was just making an observation."

Harry glared at his friend. "I was just trying to be a good date," he said, feeling like he had to defend himself.

"And you looked to be doing a good job of it," Ron commented.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, ignoring the cereal in front of him. "If you've got something to say, Ron, just come out and say it."

Ron sat back and folded his arms across his chest. "Tell me then, do you fancy Hermione?" he asked bluntly.

Harry just stared at him, his surprise at the question clearly showing in his facial expression.

"Because," Ron continued; "to me, it kind of looked like you do, mate. I mean, if you'd seen the way you were looking at her... And the two of you were always holding hands. I mean, is that what best friends do?"

Harry blinked. "It's what Hermione and I do," he pointed out. "It's who we are."

"Then you're probably the luckiest son of a bitch there is, aren't you?" Ron asked, laughing humourlessly. At Harry's confused look, Ron leaned forward. "You don't even realise what you've got, do you?"

"Ron?"

"The best of both worlds, isn't it? All those witches out there ready to crawl into your bed in the blink of an eye, and then Hermione, who's pretty much your girlfriend without all the physical stuff, right?"

Harry balked at the sound of that, his mouth hanging open. "How can you even say such a thing?" he asked, wondering just what was making Ron talk to him this way.

"Hermione is coming home, Harry. In two weeks, she's going to be living with us, _permanently_. She'll be here _all_ the time, in the mornings, at lunch, even at dinner."

"I know that."

"No, I don't think you do," Ron muttered, his tone severe. "She's going to be _here_ , Harry, and then she's going to _know_."

"Going to know what?"

"The truth about your lifestyle."

Harry blinked. "My _lifestyle_?"

"What do you think Hermione's going to think when she witnesses first hand just how often you find yourself in strange witch's beds?"

"Why would I care about what Hermione thinks?"

"Because you always have," Ron pointed out. "You know that the both of you hold each other up to a higher standard. Even _I_ don't fit into whatever understanding the two of you have, and I don't want to see either of you get hurt because you can't seem to figure out if you actually fancy Hermione or not."

Harry frowned. "I don't even see what any of this has to do with anything at all."

Ron sighed. "Listen to me, Harry. At some point, Hermione is going to want more than what you offer," he said seriously. "Sure, the two of you go to brunch and try out new places, visit museums and all that stuff that _couples_ do, but even you have to admit that, at some point, it won't be enough for her.

"Or for you, for that matter. At some point, you won't be able to have both. And then what? Really? What happens when she finds the _other_ bloke for her; the bloke who will offer her both worlds. What happens to you then?"

Harry swallowed. "I would still be her best friend."

Ron regarded his best friend sympathetically. "And can you tell me, honestly, that that's _all_ you would want, when it came down to it?"

And, really, for the first time, Harry didn't have an answer.

* * *

True to his word, on the day that Hermione Granger graduated top of her class at Hogwarts, Harry Potter was sitting right in the front row, applauding like a madman. He couldn't even begin to explain just how proud of her he was.

But she knew. Hermione could see it so clearly in his eyes; in the way he looked at her.

He was also allowing himself to feel unabashedly happy, and _show_ it. He didn't care who saw him or what they thought. He was proud of his Hermione and everyone was going to know.

Especially Hermione.

Knowing Harry, she was convinced that he was doing it to embarrass her, and he was doing a good job of it.

After the ceremony, they congregated on the lawn of the courtyard nearest the Great Hall. There were drinks and refreshments being served and the atmosphere was light, happy, and relaxed.

Hermione couldn't deny what she was feeling. She was content. And she had her two favourite boys right by her side. Okay, she had one of her favourite boys by her side. The other one was off with his girlfriend, doing goodness knows what in the broom cupboards of Hogwarts for one last time.

"I can't wait for you to be home for good," Harry whispered to Hermione, leaning in so she could hear him properly. He was so close that she was able to breathe him in. He always smelled like mowed grass and, for the life of her; she couldn't figure out how that could be. They lived in an _apartment building_.

Hermione turned to look at him, surprised at how close he was actually standing to her. "I'll be home by Wednesday night," she informed him.

"Do you need any help packing or moving your things?" he asked sincerely, placing a gentle hand on the small of her back. "I can come by if you need me."

She swallowed, trying desperately to fight off the heat that was rising up her neck. "No, I think I've got it covered."

Harry just looked at her, searching her face for something, anything. "Okay," he said simply. "Can I get you something else to drink?"

"Harry?" she said, turning her entire body to face him. "Is everything okay? Why are you so restless?"

He glanced around. "Are people staring at me?" he asked, turning his gaze back on her. "I feel like people keep staring at me. And, every time I look some place, I keep seeing where each person we lost fell."

Hermione slipped an arm around his waist. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Do you want to go?"

He did, but he wouldn't say so.

"I wouldn't hold it against you if you did," she offered. "The fact that you came is good enough for me," she assured him. "Thank you."

"I can't wait for you to be home for good," he said again, and Hermione wondered just how well he was doing being at home alone all the time. She could tell that there were things he wasn't telling her but she didn't ask. Not today, at least.

"Wednesday, Harry."

"I can't wait," he repeated, kissing her cheek and letting his lips linger for longer than normal.

It confused Hermione, and excited her at the same time. Things had been a bit strange between them since _that_ conversation. His eyes on her felt different and every time she touched him felt like something new. She didn't know _what_ was happening but she found that she wasn't going to fight it.

But then she had to remember that this was Harry. He was notorious for his one-night-stands, and she was wary of his wanting her to be one as well.

"I'm going to go now," he said, whispering in her ear. "See you at home."

"Mmm, see you at home."

And then he was gone, and Hermione was left to deal with the aftermath of her graduation. The Room of Requirement turned into the venue for their Graduation after-party, which ended up uglier and considerably dirtier than Hermione ever anticipated.

Many people expressed surprise that Harry wasn't present, and Hermione had to admit that she agreed. This seemed like the perfect place to pick up a Potter groupie.

Maybe their conversation had sparked something more for him as well.

* * *

On her second Friday night at home as a recent Hogwarts' graduate; Hermione ventured out of her bedroom to find Ron in the living room, the television on but with the volume quite low. It was just background noise, really.

"Has Harry gone out?" Hermione asked, moving to sit down on the couch.

Ron was sitting in an armchair, his head resting on the chair's back. He didn't look at all comfortable, as if he was just waiting for the opportunity to leave. "I don't know," Ron said. He checked the clock on the wall. "It's still early. Are you sure he's not here? If he was going out, it wouldn't have been this early."

Hermione also checked the clock to see that it was just after eight thirty. Was that termed _early_? "Are _you_ going out?" she asked Ron.

Ron risked a look at her. "I'm meeting Luna, yeah."

Hermione just nodded, not sure what else to say. It felt strange, being back with her boys but not really being back. She had to know that it would be different now that they were all out of school, with Ron's working in the joke shop, her getting ready for university and Harry's, umm, whatever it was that he did when he wasn't at home.

Things _were_ different.

Thankfully, Ron and Hermione's awkward silence was cut off by the sound of Harry's arrival. His Apparation wasn't as loud as other wizards but Hermione was so in tune with his that she was certain that it had a very distinct sound.

Ron and Hermione could hear him shuffling around in his bedroom before he came out to join them, looking slightly disheveled.

Ron looked particularly pleased to see him. "Hey, mate," he said, perking up. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Harry said, joining Hermione on the couch. Without much thought, he lay down, and Hermione shifted to make space for him to rest his head in her lap, her fingers immediately moving to play with his hair.

Ron eyed them for a moment, wondering how it was that neither of them could see what he and everyone else could see. "I thought you were going out," Ron said to Harry.

"Nah," he said. "Not tonight. I would much rather spend the evening with my favourite girl," he said, sneaking a look at Hermione. "If she'll have me, that is."

Hermione smiled at him. "I intend to stay in," she said. "Think you can handle that?"

Ron laughed at that. "Harry? Stay in? No ways."

Harry shot his friend a look before relaxing once more, quite loving the feel of Hermione's soothing fingers in his hair. "I want to stay in," he said strongly.

Ron was still smiling as he stood up. "I suppose that's my cue then. You'll tell me all about your _super exciting_ night tomorrow then?"

"Sure, Ron," Hermione said, only slightly irritated about his obvious sarcasm.

He gave them each one last look before he Disapparated away from right in front of them. For a moment, neither Harry nor Hermione said a word. They enjoyed their silence. It had always been comfortable for them.

"What did you have planned for the evening?" Harry eventually asked, his eyes focused on Hermione's face as she looked down at him.

"Harry, staying in doesn't really require a plan," she informed him. "But I was thinking of watching a movie, maybe making some popcorn, drinking some wine."

Harry sat up. "That sounds like a great idea. I'll start on the popcorn."

Before Hermione could even say anything, he was up and heading to the kitchen, a slight spring in his step. Hermione noted that he never used to be this way. Right now, it just seemed like he was always restless, as if he was constantly searching for something to do; something to keep himself occupied.

Perhaps he'd grown tired of doing nothing. Or he was just avoiding have to think about _certain_ things.

At some point, Hermione joined Harry in the kitchen. She was surprised to find him looking decidedly relaxed, his shoes off, shirt unbuttoned to reveal substantial skin, and hair so messy, she wondered if it could look tidy ever again. She absently smiled at the fact that her fingers had done that.

There was a pot on the stove and Harry was holding the packet of popcorn seeds in his one hand, reading the back as if the instructions would reveal the secrets to life. Hermione would have liked to get some answers for herself, if that were indeed the case.

Harry smiled at her. "Do you know what movie you want to watch?"

"You're so eager," she pointed out.

"I missed you," he said, looking at her with an unknown expression on his face.

She eyed him carefully. "I was starting to wonder," she said; "you _do_ get lonely, don't you?"

He blinked. "What?"

"When Ron's gone," she elaborated. "It's why you go out all the time, isn't it? To be with other people, so you don't have to be here alone."

"Hermione," he breathed, unsure what to say.

"The oil, Harry," she said, gesturing towards the stove.

He seemed to snap out of his trance. "Right," he said, pouring in the popcorn seeds and quickly sealing the pot with its lid.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

He grinned at her. "Hermione, you are the only person in this world who I feel completely comfortable with."

She just smiled at him, absently moving towards the refrigerator. She retrieved an already-open bottle of wine. Thankfully, it was still corked.

Harry just watched as she retrieved two glasses and started to pour. There was that strange sensation in the pit of stomach again, but he couldn't not watch her. Everything she did just seemed so graceful; so damn _purposeful_ that his heartbeat always managed to quicken whenever he was in her presence like this.

Really, he didn't think he would survive the night without saying or doing something stupid.

Hermione handed him a glass and moved to perch herself on the edge of the kitchen table. "Are you going to be against a romantic comedy?" she asked, watching his face intently.

"From this decade?" he asked seriously.

She nodded.

"Then no," he agreed quietly. "I'd watch anything you wanted to."

Hermione caught something in his eyes that she didn't recognise but, as soon as it appeared, it was gone. "I think I'll go sift through the movies while you finish up in here," she said. "Unless you intend to burn the building down with your inability to pop popcorn." It was something she liked to tease him about. For all his culinary skills adopted from his life at the Dursleys'; he had a habit of burning popcorn.

He glared at her, though his eyes gave away his amusement. "It's deceptively difficult."

"I thought you were the great Harry Potter," she teased.

"Watch it, Granger," he warned, a smile framing his face. "I know where you sleep."

"I'm literally shaking in my boots."

"As you should be," he commented dryly. "Now hurry up and pick a movie. The popcorn is almost done."

Again, Hermione noticed something in his eyes. Something new, and worrying. His comments just reiterated her thoughts that he was restless and she didn't know why it bothered her so much.

With Ron, she found that she was okay with his always wanting to leave the apartment, going to see his girlfriend. But, with Harry, it was _different_. His reasons were less healthy.

Even as he stood there, absently tapping his foot; it was as if he was just waiting for something to happen. And it hurt her to think that whatever he was waiting for had absolutely nothing to do with her.

With a soft sigh, Hermione lifted her wine glass and left the kitchen. Suddenly, she didn't feel like watching a romantic comedy anymore.

When Harry returned to the living room, Hermione was just settling down with the remote, prepared to press play. He sat down beside her and propped the bowl of popcorn between them as he sipped his own wine.

"So... what are we watching?"

" _Stepmom_."

He frowned at her. "Not exactly light viewing, is it?"

"It's a personal favourite," she informed him. "Just shut up and watch."

Harry tried to do as he was told, but his eyes kept drifting towards Hermione, which made her blush every time. The wine was easing the slight tension between them and Hermione ended up leaning against him in the dim light. It was so comfortable, being there with him.

"This is my favourite part," Hermione said, subconsciously leaning forward. "It just makes me so happy."

Harry watched her face for a moment, finding himself quite fascinated by the absent moving of her lips as she mouthed the words to the song that was playing in the movie. He recognised it as _Ain't No Mountain High Enough_ , and it made him smile.

Quite quickly, he made his decision.

"Come on," he said, standing up. "Get up and dance."

She just stared at him. "What?"

"Dance," he said, grinning at her. "Come on." He put a hand out to help her up. "We're going to have a dance party right here in our living room."

"A dance party?" she asked, allowing him to pull her up.

He nodded. "If I recall correctly, the last time you and I danced wasn't really a happy time, was it?"

"We danced at my Graduation Ball, Harry," she pointed out.

"We did! Damn, we danced a lot that night..." he remembered fondly. "And we drank a fuckload of Firewhiskey."

"It's why you don't even remember," she said, shaking her head in amusement. "What am I ever going to do with you?"

"Dance!"

So they did. They were laughing like complete fools as they danced around the room, singing along to the song like the young people that they were supposed to be. Harry even climbed up onto the couch at some point and did a scissor kick as he jumped off, making Hermione laugh just that much harder.

The more they danced, the more electric the atmosphere became. Hermione wouldn't be able to explain it, but she suddenly felt invincible, and she was sure it had very little to do with the wine in her system.

It rather had _every_ thing to do with Harry and the way he was looking at her.

"We should _go_ dancing," Hermione eventually said. "Like, to a club. Like, right now."

Harry stopped moving quite suddenly. "What?"

"I want to go out," she said over the television.

"Just to go dancing?"

"We could find some other things to do as well," she said, eyeing him in a way that sent a shiver straight up Harry's spine. "I think it'll be fun," she said, liking her own idea more and more. "I could totally find the perfect girl for you."

Harry couldn't even begin to describe just how uncomfortable that made him, so he said, "And I could find the perfect guy for you?"

She hesitated for a moment. Then: "Sure. Why not? I'm with my best friend, and we're young and we're allowed to do something crazy!" Her voice was rising. "We're going dancing!"

Harry could only laugh at how excited she sounded. "Okay! I guess we're going dancing!"

It took them just over twenty minutes to get ready to go out, and then Harry was Apparating them to a popular strip in downtown London. _Muggle_ London.

As they stepped out of the dark alley, Hermione kept a hold of Harry's arm, mainly for support. She was definitely going to regret wearing these heels in the morning.

"That one," Hermione said, pointing and a flashing sign that immediately caught her attention.

"It's a strip club, Hermione."

She laughed. "Another time then."

Harry was suddenly in such awe of her that he really didn't think he would survive the night. Was this what she was like after a bottle of wine? Damn.

He absently took note of the fact that she could handle Firewhiskey much better than she could handle wine. He didn't know why he found it so amusing but it just seemed like such a _Hermione_ thing.

She pointed again. "That one."

They went into the fourth club she pointed out, Harry performing a slight _Confundus_ Charm to get them in without having to wait in line. It helped to be a wizard sometimes.

The club was loud and dimly-lit, and Hermione gripped onto his arm quite tightly as he led the way to the bar. They found a free spot and he ordered them drinks. Everything seemed to happen quite quickly after that.

Even though Hermione insisted she'd wanted to come dancing, she didn't go to the dance floor for the first half an hour. Instead, she started to look around the room and proceeded to point out various women to Harry.

"Hermione," he said after the fourth woman, making her look at him. "You forget the number one problem."

"What's that?"

"I'm here with _you_ , so every woman you point out automatically gets compared to my best friend, and they all fall terribly short."

She just looked at him for a moment, before she placed a hand on his chest and leaned forward to whisper something in his ear. Harry didn't hear what she said over the music but the feel of her breath on his skin set something alight within him.

That strange sensation he'd been fighting was back in full force, and he had no other choice but to accept that it had everything to do with Hermione Granger.

"What about her?" Hermione asked, hiccuping. "By the bar, over there."

Harry didn't want to look but he couldn't help himself. The woman was pretty, and she was looking at him, waiting for him to make a move. Harry already knew he wouldn't. She wasn't Hermione, and that was about as scary a thought as the idea of Hermione ending up in some other guy's bed tonight.

"He's kind of cute," she said, looking to a spot over Harry's shoulder. "But... you're kind of cuter."

"I don't think you've called me cute before," he said. "Adorable, yes, but never cute."

"I called you fanciable."

"You did," he remembered. Then he asked a somewhat crazy question: "Did _you_ ever _fancy_ me?"

She tilted her head to the side. "I'd have been blind not to, yeah. You're very handsome, Harry. And kind and sweet and so very _Harry_."

He was glad for the dim lighting because he couldn't stop himself from blushing. What was happening right now? Something definitely was. The way she was looking at him was turning his insides into a whirlwind.

Could she feel it too? She had to. There was too much in the air between them for only him to be feeling whatever _it_ was.

Hermione suddenly had an overwhelming urge to dance. It hit her like an unstoppable force, and her facial expression changed to one of power. That look could be the end of mankind, for all he knew. She stood up straight, and put a hand on the counter to steady herself.

Harry was watching her the entire time, feeling that certain fire burning within him that was threatening to consume him.

Hermione looked at him for a moment. "I'm going dancing," she said, winking slightly. And then she was heading to the dance floor, Harry just left to watch the entire time. She looked back at him a few times as she made her way towards the dance floor, and his body tensed with ever look.

Something was definitely happening. There was no denying it now.

Harry watched her join the crowd and start swaying. It took her a moment to find the beat. It was quite sensual, and Harry suddenly felt uncomfortable watching her like this; _wanting_ her like this.

This was Hermione; his best friend. He should not have been staring at her the way that he was, but he just couldn't help it.

He watched her dance alone for a bit longer, before there was a strange man behind her, with his arms around her waist. The way she melted into him just fuelled that fire in Harry and it made him squirm.

Harry watched them move together, hips rolling as one and he couldn't look away even if he tried. He was transfixed by her, and she had to know it. It was as if she'd cast a spell on him and she now _owned_ him.

It was when Hermione hooked her left arm around the stranger's neck that Harry all but lost it. He snapped to attention, his entire body going rigid as he stood up straight, his eyes narrowing.

Hermione's eyes flickered his way and she tilted her head, almost daring him to do something.

So he did.

Harry made his way across the room, pushing through the crowd, his eyes on his prey. Harry didn't even bother with the formalities when he reached the pair. Hermione was already in his arms, her other dance partner simply forgotten at his arrival.

Harry wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him, their chests colliding. He took in a sharp breath, adjusting to the wonderful feel of her body against his.

And then he started to move.

Hermione couldn't imagine anything feeling so good. He was so close to her that it was difficult to tell where Harry ended and Hermione began.

Hermione could feel his hot breath on her neck and her arms lifted to wrap around his neck, bringing him even closer. What were they doing? What was this? This was Harry. What was she doing? And him, looking at her like he wanted her?

Their legs were entangled as they ground against each other, quiet moans escaping from both of their lips as they moved to the beat. Being this close was intoxicating. Hermione couldn't think straight. She didn't know if she even wanted to. It felt too... good.

She pulled back slightly to look at his face. "Harry," she breathed.

He blinked, looking rather dazed. "Hermione," he whispered.

A moment later, they were kissing, the alcohol and proximity getting to both their brains as their lips crashed against one another. It was a sloppy kiss that Harry would probably balk at in the morning, but then their tongues joined in the battle, and the rest of their evening was all but decided.

He wanted her.

Now.

Hermione could taste the beer in his mouth, and the popcorn from earlier. She decided right then that she wanted him too. Desperately. She arched into him, her fingers roaming through his hair, changing the angle to deepen the kiss.

"Hermione," he whispered against her lips, unable to catch his breath.

"We should go home," she found herself saying, capturing his lips once more. "Now."

He agreed by biting at her bottom lip, making her moan. It literally sent a shock through Harry's entire body. He couldn't remember wanting someone as much as he wanted her in this moment. He was so aroused that it felt like every inch of his skin was burning.

Hermione was the one to pull away first, her eyes blazing with wanton need. Harry felt dizzy. Why did she feel so good; taste so good?

Hermione took hold of his left hand and led them off the dance floor and towards the bathrooms. She slipped them into the men's toilets, entered a cubicle, took a deep breath, and then Apparated them into their apartment.

She barely had time to right herself from the Apparation before his lips were crashing down on hers again, turning her brain to porridge.

It was quiet in the apartment, just the sounds of their movement and moans filling their ears. That did very little to quench the desire. If anything, it fuelled it, and Hermione was grabbing at his shoulders and his back, wanting nothing more than to have him closer.

Clothes started to fall as they made their way to Harry's bedroom, stumbling over themselves. All the while, it was as if their lips were fused together, only parting to remove Harry's shirt first, and then her top. Harry drifted his lips over the skin of her neck and shoulders as he expertly removed her bra, leaving her exposed to his gaze.

If Hermione weren't even slightly intoxicated, she might have shied away from his heated gaze, but she didn't. Harry stared at her for a few moments before his lips were on hers again, his hands roaming over her bare, perfectly smooth skin.

Once they were in his bedroom, Hermione's hands dropped to the buckle of his belt and his jeans came off quickly enough, before Harry repaid the favour and worked on hers. She had to kick at them to get them fully off, and then they were falling onto his bed, Harry half landing on top of her, winding her slightly.

While she tried to catch her breath, he worshiped her body, caressing every inch of her with both his hands and his lips. When he brought his mouth back up to hers, he knew it was time.

They hadn't even said a word to each other, afraid that any coherent words would break the spell. Hermione reached for him through his boxers and he groaned unintelligibly. He could even feel her smile at the power she had over him, which just aroused him even further. How was that even possible?

Harry happily obliged when she started pushing his boxers down, and he helped her continue their journey downwards, even as he moved to poise over her. He hooked a finger in the waistband of her knickers and, finally, there was no longer a barrier between them.

They were desperate now, impatient, but Harry had the wherewithal to pause for a moment, just before he made her his; just before he took them to a place from which they would never be able to return.

He was breathing heavily. "Are you...?" he managed to get out, chancing breaking the spell so potent between them.

"We're okay," she said.

Harry kissed her neck. "We should talk about this," he managed to say.

Hermione pulled his head down for another bruising kiss. "Later."

That was enough for Harry. If this night was all he got with this wonderful girl, then he was going to make it count. Every second of it.

Harry had never been more grateful to Ron than in that moment, with Hermione's legs wrapped around him and him buried deep inside her. The way she grasped his shoulders; the way she moved with him; the way she said his name. It was all perfect.

Harry had never felt anything like it, and he had done this quite a few times. But never like this. With her, it was different. Better in every way.

They couldn't possibly do this only once, could they? He would always want more.

It amazed him, even as he lay there, trying to recover the breath she'd stolen for him. He wanted her and she wanted him. If Harry had it his way, this night would never end. He would never be able to get enough.

He would make her his forever if he could.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Hermione woke up in Harry's bed, draped in his cool sheets, and feeling completely and utterly content. Her immediate recollection of the previous night was spotty at best but, the more she lay there, enveloped by the smell of him; she started to remember more clearly. Her body was even tingling from his touches and his kisses and caresses, and she positively blushed at thoughts of the previous night. The things they had done.

Harry Potter was, undoubtedly, an _extremely_ talented wizard.

Hermione was alone under the covers, her hair spread out over a soft pillow. From her position, she could hear the shower running, mainly because his bathroom door was slightly open.

She knew that Harry wasn't one to normally leave the door open but, instinctively, she knew that he had done it this particular morning to let her know that he hadn't taken off; that he didn't regret their night together.

Did she?

Hermione wasn't sure how she felt about the evening itself, on an emotional level. But, physically, she felt thoroughly satisfied. Even quite sore, if she were being completely honest. She was sure she had bruises in places she didn't even know one could get bruises.

She rolled onto her stomach and buried her face in his pillow, her mind reeling. She was in Harry's bed. She was _naked_ in _Harry's bed_ , because they'd slept together. No. They'd done so much more that that. Merlin, she would never be able to look at him the same way.

Not that she particularly wanted to.

Despite the fact that they so clearly had a few things to talk about; Hermione was quite certain that she didn't want _this_ to be _it_. It didn't even have to be messy or complicated. It could just _be_.

Eventually, she rolled out of bed and made her way to the bathroom, not bothering to cover herself up. She wouldn't need any clothing for what she had planned. It was bold, she knew, but it just felt like the thing to do and she wasn't going to hesitate or second-guess herself. Not when she wanted him to know that she definitely didn't regret any of it either.

Harry was caught unawares when the shower door opened, letting in too much cold air. He even let out an unmanly squeal when he felt Hermione's hand on his back.

He turned sharply, almost slipping on the wet tiles. "Hermione!" he gasped, putting a hand out on the wall to steady himself.

She just grinned at him, surprised by the fact that she didn't feel the least bit shy, standing completely bare for him to see. "Mind if I join you?" she asked softly, her voice still raspy from sleep.

He took a calming breath, raking his eyes over her wonderfully naked body. "You're trying to kill me," he concluded, finally smiling. "I'm surprised I survived the night."

"I'm surprised I can stand."

Harry felt himself blush. Then, to ease his embarrassment, he ushered her further inside his - thankfully - large shower. "Umm, come into the water," he said, reaching out to touch her arm. She felt warm, even in the heat of the running water. He couldn't help thinking that she was literally running hot.

Hermione stepped under the flow of water, letting the heat soothe her skin and wash off all traces of their illicit affairs. She absently wondered if they would actually talk about what happened while they were in here.

It just didn't seem like the place to have the inevitable conversation. The 'Later' conversation. Perhaps that was why she had joined him.

Harry stood behind her, his hands massaging her shoulders in a gentle rhythm. "Did I wake you?" he asked softly, his warm breath reaching the soft skin of her neck.

"No," she purred, when he hit a tense spot. "I just sort of woke up."

"Do you know what time it is?"

"I don't even care."

Harry let out a throaty chuckle, his hands dropping to massage her back, her skin just as soft and smooth as his hazy brain could remember. "My my my, just what have I done to Hermione Granger?"

She deftly stepped out of the stream of water and Harry stepped into it, drops flying off his hardened chest. He kept his eyes on her, waiting for her to say or do something.

Anything.

Hermione just eyed him quizzically. This was her best friend, who she now knew rather intimately. It continued to amaze her, really, that she was standing naked in his shower, _with_ him, and she was feeling the least bit embarrassed about any of it. How much had already changed?

Well, it was quite difficult to feel embarrassed when she'd screamed out his name several times while in the throes of ecstasy.

It wasn't anything she expected though; the ease in which they were standing together. That tiny part of her brain that had entertained something like this never pictured her feeling so calm about it the morning after.

"What are you thinking about?" Harry eventually asked, running his hair under the water for a moment. He absently reached for the soap and started to lather his hands while he waited for a response.

"Lots of things," she admitted.

Harry used his soapy hands to rub her shoulders again, and then down her arms. "To do with last night?"

Hermione nodded, before tilting her head back when his hands ran over her breasts and down to her stomach.

"Do you regret it?" he felt he had to ask, his hands pausing at her hips as he waited for her response. He needed to be sure.

Hermione looked at him. "No I don't, but that doesn't mean that we don't have to have that talk."

"The _Later_ talk?"

She nodded.

"Which we can have later?"

She just managed to nod again before Harry used his hold on her to pull her towards him until they were both under the water. Harry smiled devilishly before he dropped his head and proceeded to ravish her once more.

The two of them emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, thoroughly pruned and embarrassingly satisfied.

Hermione was wrapped up in a towel as she gathered her things from his bedroom floor. She noticed that he had ventured out of the room to retrieve their other discarded clothes, in case Ron decided to come home. Smart boy.

"I don't know," she said thoughtfully; "taking a shower with someone else always seems like a good idea until you're actually doing it."

He raised an eyebrow at her as he pulled on a pair of clean boxers. "Have you had many a shower with these someone _elses_?"

She chuckled. "Oh no. You're definitely my first. But, at a certain point, I just wanted to kick you out so I could wash my hair in peace."

"Why didn't you?"

"I don't think your ego needs any more stroking for today," she said, sounding particularly amused. She definitely wouldn't come out and tell him that she wasn't ready to be out of his presence just yet, because the reality of what they had done would hit her like a freight train, and she just wasn't ready for it yet.

Harry made no comment as he bent to pick up a piece of fabric on the floor by his feet. "Can I keep these?" he asked, grinning like the naughty boy that Hermione now knew he was.

She blinked. "You want to keep my knickers?"

He nodded.

"Is that what you do with all the women? Some kind of trophy?"

Harry had the good decency to look hurt by her accusations. "No I don't," he said, dropping his gaze. "But you're not just any woman, are you?"

"I'm sorry," she said, balking at her own words. Why had she said that? "I don't know where that came from."

"Yes you do," he said seriously. "You think you're just another notch in my belt, which you're not."

"Then what am I, Harry? What _was_ this?"

Before Harry could respond, there was a sound of a CRACK from somewhere in the apartment.

"Ron's back," Hermione said, looking particularly panicked. "What do we tell him?"

"What do you mean what do we tell him?" he asked, looking a bit confused as he located a t-shirt. "Do you seriously want to tell him we slept together when _we_ don't even know what it means? He'll only ask you to define it, and then what?"

"Well, I'm pretty much naked here, Mr Potter," she said, sounding exasperated.

"Simple," he said, throwing on a t-shirt. "I'll distract him while you sneak back to your room. That way he won't hear the sound of your Apparation." He started to move, as if he had done this many times. Hermione couldn't stop herself from thinking that he probably had.

Before Harry reached the door, he stopped right in front of her. He put a gentle hand on one of her exposed shoulders. "Have I ever told you how beautiful you look in the mornings?"

Hermione just shook her head, pressing her lips together in silent indignation.

"Well, you do," he whispered. "And you are." He dropped a kiss onto her cheek and then he was going. He looked back at her one more time before he opened the door and slipped out of the room.

Hermione counted sixty seconds before she moved to the door, her clothes bundled in her arms. Silently, she turned the handle and opened the door a centimetre. She could hear voices coming from the kitchen, but she couldn't tell what they were saying.

Harry was probably telling Ron about his latest conquest, and it was a strangely sobering thought when she remembered that that latest conquest was _her_.

Hermione had to have known what she was getting herself into, climbing into Harry Potter's bed like that. He was notorious for sleeping with a different girl, woman every other night. Hermione hadn't quite known just how true that was until she was back living with her boys permanently.

What would happen now? Would there just be another one after her?

Hermione didn't think she could handle such a thought. She was too selfish, maybe, but now that she'd had Harry; she didn't want to let him go.

But a relationship? Would he even agree to such a thing? _She_ wouldn't. Not if she were him, and definitely not if it was her that he were considering entering the relationship with.

While she thought about it all, Hermione got dressed. She picked comfortable clothing, intent on not leaving the apartment at all today. She definitely needed her rest after all the exertion of the previous night.

Once she was ready to face the day, she made her way to the kitchen. She was slightly surprised when she found only Ron sitting at the kitchen table, an empty plate in front of him and a distant look in his eye.

"Morning, Ron," Hermione said, plastering a smile on her face. "Everything okay?"

He seemed to come out of a trance as he noticed her arrival. "Oh, hey, Hermione," he said, a ghost of a smile on the edge of his lips. "I sometimes forget that you're here now."

"It's Saturday," she pointed out, moving towards the kettle. It wasn't as if she wasn't around on the weekends while she'd still been at Hogwarts. It was just one of the perks of being Head Girl. Professor McGonagall had afforded her the privilege of leaving the Castle whenever she wanted.

"I know." He laughed lightly. "Just getting used to it. So... How was your night with everyone's favourite wizard?"

Hermione almost dropped the mug she had just retrieved from the cabinet over the kettle she'd just turned on. "What?"

Ron looked at her strangely. "Last night," he reminded her. "I left you two making plans to stay in or what not. Did you end up going out?"

Hermione swallowed. What had Harry told him? Was this a test? Did he suspect something? "Umm..."

"Harry mentioned a dance party," Ron continued; "but I reckon he's just having me on."

Hermione smiled at the memory. "No, there really was a dance party," she admitted.

"Damn," he said, smiling as well. "Would have loved to see that!"

Hermione turned her attention to the kettle, once it indicated that the water was done boiling. The water had boiled quite quickly, and she suspected that Harry must have had some tea earlier. Ron wasn't much of a tea-drinker. She guessed that it must have something to do with his impatience for food, but she'd never really asked.

She had to agree that a nice cup of tea would do her well. She needed something to calm her. Anything to help her relax now that she knew things about her best friend that she didn't know before.

She had just sat down when Harry entered the kitchen, dressed for the day and looking ready to head out. He seemed surprised to see her there but he said nothing out of the ordinary. He merely greeted her as normal, absently kissing the top of her head before Ron was addressing him.

Ron looked at Harry expectantly. "Ready to go?"

Harry just nodded.

Hermione had to ask the question. "Where are you two off to?"

Ron looked at her. "Harry'll tell you later," he said, somewhat dismissively. "We're already late as it is."

Harry looked apologetic when his eyes fell upon her. He conveyed so much in that one look that Hermione didn't know what to do with all of it. "Later," he said softly, promising so much in that one word that Hermione even shivered from its intensity.

She nodded once. "Later."

And then the boys were gone, leaving Hermione alone in the rather large apartment. It was definitely a step up from her Head Girl's room.

As far as residencies went, Hermione had to admit that she was quite lucky. Even though Harry purchased the property and fully intended to have his two best friends stay for free, she and Ron had vehemently refused.

It took a lot of convincing, but Harry finally relented and allowed them to maintain the bills on the property. It was bucket loads less on the rent than they probably would have been paying for such luxurious accommodation.

Because it was luxurious.

The apartment was in a posh, upper class building, with pristine finishing and an air of elegance. It was an old building located in upper-class London, and the board of trustees had initially balked at the thought of a teenager moving into the third floor, but they quickly changed their tune when Harry produced the cash required on the very same day.

It always surprised her whenever she saw money in action. It was one of the only times Harry really used his money that way. To live comfortably. She didn't begrudge him that. After living as a second-rate citizen in his relatives' house, he needed a home. And Grimmauld Place definitely wasn't one of those.

Hermione sipped at her tea until she felt calm enough to think about what it meant that she was already craving Harry's touch. It was undeniable now; she wanted him. It was as if he had burned her; claiming her without even trying.

Hermione considered breakfast but she wasn't really in the mood quite yet. Maybe she could take something with her. Setting her mug in the sink, she grabbed an apple before she made her way back to her bedroom and crawled onto her still-made bed. She reached for a book on her nightstand and started to read.

As worrying as her thoughts about her best friend were, she felt surprisingly calm.

It was Harry. She had nothing to worry about. She knew that he wouldn't do anything that would intentionally hurt her. She trusted him and that was more than she thought she could end up feeling for any other guy at this point in her life.

She must have fallen asleep because, the next thing she knew, she wasn't alone on her bed. Harry was lying in front of her, propped up on her pillows with a book flat against his chest. He was obviously asleep, his glasses adorably askew. In that moment, he looked like the boy he was supposed to be, young and untouched by darkness.

But they all knew better.

Hermione shifted until she was also propped up on the pillows, her eyes adjusting to being open. She looked at the book he'd been reading. It was Muggle Literature and she couldn't stop her smile.

He'd plucked it off her shelf: _To Kill A Mockingbird._ It didn't look like he had made much progress before he too succumbed to sleep. He had to be exhausted, given that they'd barely had any sleep the night before.

She watched him for a while. It was calming, knowing that he was here, with her. And not with anyone else.

That was the decision made for her. _She_ wanted him.

Harry woke up to find her looking at him. It wasn't the first time that he'd woken up to someone staring at him but this was the most relaxed he felt. There was nothing creepy about Hermione. She meant him no harm.

"Hey you," he breathed, rubbing his eyes and finding that he was surprised his glasses were still on.

"Hi," she said, sitting up so she could look at him properly. "You're in my room."

He sat up as well. "I wanted to see you when I got back, but you were asleep so I decided to stay."

She stared at his mouth as he spoke, finding that she was fascinated by it.

"I think I like your bed better," he continued, patting the duvet softly. "It's a lot more comfortable than mine."

Hermione's gaze drifted to his eyes. "I want to kiss you."

He grinned at her. "I bet you do."

"What does this mean?"

"I don't know. I'm very kissable."

Hermione reached up to kiss his lips, finding that he tasted like coffee. The kiss deepened until she was climbing onto him, straddling his hips. Her hands snaked up his chest, over his shoulders and into his hair, holding him in place.

Harry held her waist, keeping her still, even though all she wanted to do was grind against him. He pulled away after a moment, coming to his senses. "Hermione?" he breathed.

"Hmm?"

He craned his neck so he could look at her face. "I thought we were supposed to be talking about this," he pointed out, sounding rather breathless.

"Later." And then her mouth was on his again.

Later didn't come for another full hour. Every time they tried to talk; someone's hands would drift, and they would be right back where they started: naked and joined in the most intimate way.

They had to leave her bedroom to have the _talk_ because Harry was sure it would never happen if he kept catching sight of her perfect body. Harry rushed to his room and changed into tracksuit bottoms and a faded t-shirt before he met Hermione in the main living room. She was sitting on the longest couch, her legs tucked underneath her, looking entirely dazed.

Harry felt quite smug as he made his way into the room and dropped himself into an armchair. He would not be the one to initiate conversation.

Hermione figured as much because she knew him a little too well. "I suppose I'll start then," she said, taking a breath. "You're my best friend, Harry."

"You're my best friend too," he said quickly, leaning forward. "And I didn't set out to seduce you," he let her know.

"Is that what you think you did?" she asked, only slightly amused. "Because I'm sure that I was a willing participant from the very beginning."

He blushed. "I'm just telling you."

Hermione chose to remain practical and completely rational about this entire situation. There was no need to get the mess of emotions involved. Despite their ages, they were both, when required, extremely mature. This would be one of those times. "We had sex," she said bluntly. "That happened. Several times, in fact. It was great but even you can't expect us to step back and try to forget that it ever happened."

"Is that what you want?" he found himself asking. He was irritated by how small his voice sounded when he finally spoke.

"No," she admitted truthfully. "I rather like having sex with you. I want to keep doing it."

Harry let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. It was out of pure relief. He was so happy that she was the one to say it out loud. Merlin knew he wouldn't have been able to. "Me too," he said quickly. Too quickly, maybe.

Hermione blinked. "Really?"

He frowned. "Of course."

"What about all your other girls?"

Harry just stared at her for a moment. "What other girls?"

"I'm not an idiot, Harry," she said seriously. "We went out last night to get you laid."

"And to get _you_ laid," he pointed out, a bit childishly.

" _I_ went out dancing," she said, glaring at him.

"And yet you came home with me," he countered, narrowing his eyes. "Which is something that _never_ happens."

"What?"

"I never bring girls home. We usually go to their places," he elaborated.

She gave him a slightly annoyed look. "I _live_ here, Harry."

"But we went to _my_ bedroom," he said, as if it made all the difference. To him, it did. He just hoped that she could see it before she decided on something drastic.

"Why are we even arguing about this?" she asked, sounding exasperated.

"We're arguing about it because you seem to think that I think you're just like every other girl I've slept with, which isn't true. Not in the slightest."

"How do I know that, Harry?" she asked, putting herself on the line for a moment.

She told herself she wouldn't risk it, because she wasn't ready to put her heart on the line again. Not after Michael. But this was Harry, right? He wouldn't hurt her.

"Wasn't it just sex?" she prompted after he didn't respond to her initial question.

Harry sat back. "Is that what you want it to have been?"

"Isn't that what it was?"

Harry looked at her for a long moment, seeing what she needed him to say in her eyes. So he did. He said what she needed to hear from him. "Yeah, it was," he agreed quietly. He was surprised by how much it felt like a lie to him.

She swallowed, steeling herself for her next words. Profound they were, poetry they were not. "I'm okay with that."

"What?"

"Just sex. We can do that."

"What?"

She took a deep breath, realising that he was intentionally being thick. "Would you be okay with that?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

She looked him in the eye, almost daring him to continue playing dumb. "Just sex, Harry. I think you know what I mean when I say that."

He swallowed. "Would _you_ be okay with that?"

"I think I could do this, if you wanted to," she said, discussing it as if it were some kind of business agreement. It would be easier if they just looked at it that way. "After everything with Michael and Terry, I'm just not really in the mood to deal with immature boys right now. I don't think my heart can handle it, so dating people just isn't for me right now. I don't want a relationship, and I'm sure you don't want one either."

He frowned slightly, but didn't comment on her assumption that he wouldn't want a _relationship_ with _her_. If Ron's observations were right, they already _were_ in a relationship. "No, yeah, of course not."

She watched his face. "So this is what you want? It would be sex with _just me_ , Harry, until one of us decides that we want more."

He blinked. "More?"

"If ever one of us decides we want to start dating again, we stop this thing."

Harry didn't spend too much time thinking about the fact that she didn't seem to consider anything _more_ with _him_. "Okay."

"Nothing changes. We're friends as we've always been, just that we're adding a physical aspect to it."

"Okay."

"No jealousy. No feelings."

"Okay."

"No possessiveness."

"Okay."

"Nobody finds out. Especially not Ron."

"Okay."

"We're just friends with benefits. We'll still do all those other normal things that we did before, and then disappear into one of our bedrooms and have lots of crazy, dirty sex."

Harry positively beamed at the sound of that. "Okay," he said excitedly.

Hermione nodded, sitting back. She found that she felt rather calm about this arrangement. They could do this. It was going to be fine. "Where is Ron, by the way?" she asked after a while.

"At Luna's."

"Does he ever even stay here anymore?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes, yeah. But now that she's graduated, I'm sure we won't be seeing much of him."

Hermione noticed the way his voice dropped at the end and she had the unstoppable urge to comfort him, only he was sitting too far away.

"Although, he does stay here sometimes," Harry added, injecting some humour into his voice. "Mainly when she's on assignment, or when he's too plastered drunk and he doesn't want her to know."

"Boys," she dismissed, shaking her head in disapproval.

Harry got up off his armchair and moved towards her. "I reckon there's an aspect of boys that you're rather fond of," he said slyly, moving to kneel in front of her.

Hermione ran a hand through his hair. "Where did you two go this morning, by the way?"

"St Mungo's."

"Why?"

"It's a long story," he said, tensing slightly. "I don't really want to talk about it right now."

She kept her fingers in his hair, choosing to allow him this pass. He would tell her when he was ready, because it was clearly something that she shouldn't push. There was just something in his eyes that told her now wasn't the time.

For a moment, they locked eyes and Hermione just knew that this was going to end badly. She had absolutely no respect for Divination but, in that moment, she saw the future, and it wasn't a good one.

A part of her just knew that they wouldn't be able to go back to the way things were before, but she suddenly didn't care. This was Harry. She couldn't bring herself to care about _after_. Not when he was looking at her like that.

Hermione shook the thought from her mind. "Want to make out?"

He laughed lightly. "And to think, you were already my favourite person before all of this." He climbed onto the couch with her, almost pinning her down, and proceeded to claim her mouth as his own.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Harry and Hermione had to do decidedly less sneaking around than they originally anticipated when they began their arrangement. With Ron almost constantly AWOL, the two of them usually had the entire apartment to themselves.

And they definitely made use of it.

Hermione could barely look at the main couch or even the kitchen table without blushing furiously. The things the furniture had seen. She quickly learned that Harry quite liked the kitchen counters; they were just the right height for him.

Hermione admitted to liking his bed the best. Being wrapped up in his sheets made the experience all the better and she was sure that it had everything to do with the way he smelt. She was still yet to figure out how it was possible that he could smell like mown grass.

They literally couldn't seem to get enough of each other. They turned into sex-crazed teenagers, who went at it every chance they could. Hermione couldn't even remember actually getting fully dressed while in the apartment for a substantial amount of time.

It didn't help that Harry was always around, or that Hermione didn't start at St Andrew's until September. When she wasn't catching up on Muggle schoolwork, they had all the time to explore each other; to learn all they could about what the other liked and didn't like. She now knew how sensitive his calves were, and he now knew that kissing her collarbone would result in her making some truly embarrassing noises.

Hermione was even convinced that she now knew every blemish on his perfect body, from the freckle behind his left knee to the ruler impression just behind his right shoulder. She didn't like the story that came with that imperfection.

The first time they almost got caught was two weeks after they started whatever they started. It was mid-morning and they were lying in Harry's bed, heads sticking out from under the covers, after what Hermione would term a glorious night.

Harry was lying on his side, his eyes on her face, a goofy smile framing his lips. "We should check out that place Seamus was telling us about," he said, fighting a yawn.

Hermione had fingers on his chest, as she absently ran them over his tight skin. "For lunch?"

He nodded.

"Can it be a late one? I'm supposed to meet Ginny at the Burrow to help her pick out an outfit for her date with Neville."

Harry was pleasantly surprised by how little he felt at the sound of that piece of information. Admittedly, Hermione had felt a little nervous bringing up Ginny's budding relationship with their fellow Gryffindor, but the lack of reaction from Harry eased her worries.

And it wasn't as if she _could_ be worried about it. They were just friends, doing _friendly_ things to each other.

"Two o'clock then?" he asked.

"Sounds perfect," she breathed.

Harry stilled her hand on his chest with one of his own. "You're making me very happy," he said quietly, still marvelling at how easily her touch could affect him.

She kissed the back of his hand. "That was my intention."

He laughed lightly. "You really are trying to kill me, aren't you?"

"It's not my fault you can't keep up," she teased, biting her bottom lip.

"You know I can't stand it when you do that," he growled, immediately rolling onto her.

She laughed out loud, her hands running up his back.

"I'm the only one who gets to bite that lip," he said, nipping at the skin of her neck, his lips ghosting down to her collarbone.

Generally, things proceeded quite quickly with the two of them. Neither had much patience when the desire kicked in and this time was no different. Harry had just entered her when there was a knock on his bedroom door.

And then the door was opening.

Harry's Seeker reflexes were all that saved them from being found out. In one quick move, he had them both covered by his duvet, an unsatisfied groan escaping his lips. He wouldn't even be able to describe his annoyance if he were ever asked.

"Ron!" Harry hissed, sticking only his head out from under the duvet. If anything, Harry was surprised that they hadn't heard the sound of his Apparation. Maybe they were too lost in each other, because Harry doubted that Ron would have used the front door. He claimed it was too _Muggle_.

Hermione was trying her best not to giggle beneath Harry, and the vibrations of her body were making it difficult for him to concentrate on the redhead in the doorway.

"Oh, you're busy," Ron said, making no move to leave. "Oh, wow, you're actually _really_ _busy_. Right now."

"Ron!"

"Sorry, it's just, well, I just got home, and I wanted to check in with you and Hermione, but she's not here."

"I'm right here," Hermione whispered for only Harry to hear, and then she shifted a bit, making him close his eyes.

"Do you know where she is?" Ron asked Harry.

"Hmm," he managed to get out. It was difficult to think when Hermione was now squeezing him that way. "She mentioned something about visiting Ginny. She might have already left."

"Does she know you brought a girl home?" Ron asked curiously. "Because you never do that. Must be serious."

Harry shot Ron a glare that had the redhead backing out so fast he almost tripped over himself.

Once the door was closed, Harry let out the breath he was holding and it came out as a pleasurable groan. He looked at Hermione, shifting the duvet cover out of the way so he could see her perfect face. "You are so mean," he concluded, unable to stop his smile.

She squeezed him once more. "Just how mean?"

"Not mean enough, apparently," he said as he covered her mouth with his hand and started to move.

They had to employ their usual distraction tactics to get Hermione back to her room and out of the apartment before Ron figured out that the girl in Harry's bed was actually their mutual best friend.

Hermione could only marvel at whatever the two boys talked about when she wasn't around. She wondered if Harry would actually tell her if she did ask. If he seemed reluctant, well, there were always ways to get him to talk. It amazed her that the ever-stoic Harry Potter was so ticklish. She loved the sound of his laughter.

Hermione cast a Silencing Charm on her room and proceeded to get ready for the day. Even though she complained about showering with Harry, she rather enjoyed it. Really, she enjoyed every moment with him.

Even when they weren't actually engaging in night time activities, she liked just _being_ in his presence. Because they were friends first. It was the only way this whole thing was working; the only way it would continue to work. Right?

Hermione left her Charm up to hide the sound of her Apparation. She and Harry had spent quite some time researching wards for households and they had decided to employ both primary and secondary wards in the apartment.

The primary ones were standard wards, and allowed only certain people could Apparate into the apartment, and only into the living room area. The secondary wards prevented them Apparating into any other room.

Of course, though, Ron, Harry and Hermione could bypass the secondary wards, and were able to Apparate right into their own bedrooms. It would have been a wonderfully efficient system for Harry and Hermione if only Apparation didn't make such a distracting cracking sound.

Once Hermione was safely at the Burrow, she messaged Harry to let him know she was out of the apartment. There was only so much distracting one could do.

It had been a close call, really. Perhaps Harry was telling Ron to wait for confirmation before just opening the door after knocking. And they were probably discussing the fact that Harry actually brought a girl home... which he apparently didn't do.

Except with her.

But then again, she did _live_ there. Only it was as if the two of them had made a mutual yet silent decision that their nights would be spent in his bedroom and days spent everywhere else.

 _Everywhere_.

They'd even ventured to having sex outside of the apartment. It was exciting, sneaking into museum bathrooms and restaurant toilets and doing completely wanton things. Harry never would have guessed just how adventurous his Hermione was, but she was constantly surprising him. And, well, she was surprising herself as well.

When Hermione entered the Burrow, Ginny was in a right panic.

Mrs Weasley happily left Hermione to deal with her youngest child. There was only so much patience a woman had and there was very little left for the seventh Weasley at a time like this.

"Everything I own is awful!" Ginny exclaimed. "Honestly, Hermione, I may as well go naked."

Hermione couldn't stop her laugh. "I'm certain Neville wouldn't mind," she said, grinning at her best friend.

"This isn't funny," she huffed. "It's our first _real_ date, and I want it to go well, you know? I do kind of want to impress him."

"Gin, I'm sure he'll be impressed whatever you decide to wear," she said calmly, moving towards the redhead's cupboard and running her eyes over the various items of clothing. "Hmm, what about this red dress?"

"Too long."

"The green one is quite nice."

"Too formal."

"This black one, the strapless one."

"Too sexy."

"Then the black one _with_ the straps."

"Too old lady."

Hermione sighed. "Then you really may as well go naked."

"You're no help.

"Neither are you."

Ginny glared at the older witch for a moment. "Something's different about you."

Hermione frowned slightly. "What?"

"I don't know; just _something_."

Hermione immediately dropped her gaze. She could only wonder what Ginny would think if ever she found out about her and Harry. Not that Ginny had a claim on him or anything. It just would have been a bit awkward, wouldn't it?

But then, Hermione was quite sure that Harry and Ginny hadn't actually been intimate _that_ way. Come to think of it, she didn't actually know his _first_ was. She would have to ask him.

After about an hour of constant bickering, Hermione was able to get Ginny to agree to an outfit with matching shoes. It was quite a good one too, if Hermione did say so herself.

"I figured it out," Ginny said while they were repacking her cupboard with all the thrown out clothes.

"Figured what out?"

"Why there's something different about you," Ginny said, turning to look at Hermione. "You're happy."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "I'm what?"

"It's not even something you're conscious of, is it? But you are totally, undeniably happy, Hermione." Ginny let out a breath. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"What are you so damn happy?"

Hermione had no idea how to answer the redhead's question.

Ginny let out an excited squeal. "Ooh, tell me, is there a guy involved?"

Hermione didn't even know what to say.

"Will we get to meet him tonight?"

She blinked. "Tonight?"

"Yes, tonight, at Dean and Seamus'. They're throwing a party. Don't tell me you're not going."

Now that she thought about it, she remembered Harry mentioning it, but they hadn't yet decided, had they? And since when did they start making decisions like that together anyway? It wasn't like they were a couple.

"I didn't forget," Hermione said, coming back to the conversation. "We'll be there."

It was Ginny's turn to raise her eyebrows questioningly "We?"

Hermione cleared her throat. "I mean, _I'll_ be there, which kind of also means that Ron and Harry will be there as well, doesn't it?"

Ginny just nodded. "We plan to drop by after our dinner," she explained, clearly referring to herself and Neville.

Who would have guessed?

They finished up the cupboard in silence and then headed downstairs to find Molly in the kitchen, preparing something that smelt absolutely delicious.

"Hermione, dear, are you staying for lunch?" Molly asked.

Hermione checked her watch. "I'm actually meeting Harry at two, but I can stay for a little while."

"What's happening at two?" Ginny asked, more curious than anything.

"Lunch. He's keen on this place that Seamus told us about. Thought we'd try it out."

"Like a date?"

Hermione paled at that. What? "No," she said easily, hiding her slight panic quite well. "Just two friends having lunch, like we usually do. There's nothing wrong with that, is there?"

"Of course not. I was just checking."

Hermione's curiosity was peaked. "Would it be so weird if it were a date?"

Ginny spent a moment thinking about it. "No, I don't think it would be so weird, but it's not a date, is it?"

"Definitely not."

"As long as everything is clear."

Hermione wasn't sure why she felt so uncomfortable all of a sudden. Hermione did not want to date, and this lunch with Harry was _not_ a date. They had lunch all the time, and breakfast and dinner. They did practically everything together. It was just who they were. Even before the sex, they'd done things together. But why did it feel like it was so much _more_ now?

Hermione arrived at the restaurant early and found them a nice table in the corner, where they could have a nice conversation and possibly do other things under the table. The first time Hermione had reached for him under the table, he'd all but jumped out of his chair. She still teased him about it.

When Harry arrived, he smiled the second he laid eyes on her. They were in Diagon Alley so he was quickly recognised but he paid the onlookers no attention as he made his way towards her.

If they were in the Muggle world, he probably would have kissed her but, instead, he just sat down and touched her thigh under the table. It was something she'd learned early on that he just liked to touch her, even if it was just holding her hand.

"Am I late?" he asked softly.

"Just on time."

"Have you looked at the menu?" he asked, picking his own one up. "Dean recommended the salmon, but I'm not that keen on fish today." He stopped talking when he realised that she was just staring at him. "What?"

"Is this a date?" she blurted out.

He blinked. "Is this a what?"

"A date, Harry? You and me, are we on a date right now?"

He swallowed. "No, this isn't a date, Hermione," he said carefully. If they _were_ on a date, he would make sure that she knew it. "I thought you were clear on all of this. _No dating_. We're just doing all the things we used to do before you discovered the wonder that is Little Harry."

"Wonder, huh?"

He smirked at her. "I'm pretty sure that's what you called it the first time," he said.

"I'm pretty sure I didn't."

"You were thinking it."

Wow, she wanted to kiss him. "Well, as impressive as Little Harry is; it's really your hands that get me," she informed him. "And your mouth. I really love your mouth."

Harry took a steadying breath. "Why are we here again?"

Hermione smiled at him before she returned her attention to her menu, shaking her head at his antics. "I'm thinking I might go for the lamb," she said. "It sounds delicious."

Harry searched his own menu. "Wow, it does."

"You can't get the same as me."

"Why not?" he asked, knowing full well why he couldn't.

She glared at him. "We have a system, Harry." And then she bit her bottom lip, practically taunting him.

"If you don't stop that, I will kiss you right here in front of all of these people," he threatened.

"I'd like to see you try."

He leaned in and she had to put a hand out to stop him.

"What are you doing?"

He grinned. "I was just going to kiss you, that's all."

Her hand slipped down to his thigh. "Harry, you know you can't do that."

"I can't?" he asked, faking innocence. "But I thought we were on a date."

She laughed lightly, sliding her hand further up his thigh. "What ever am I going to do with you, Mr Potter?"

Harry stopped her hand. "Stop that, Miss Granger. We're in public."

"Well, you stop too," she said, pouting slightly. "And don't you dare order the lamb."

"Or what?" he countered.

"Then Granger is closed for business tonight," she said, giving him a pointed look.

"We're going to a party tonight, Hermione. There won't even be a chance to do the _business_ anyway."

"You say that now, but I'm an incredibly talented witch, if you didn't already know."

He _did_ know. "Little minx," he hissed.

She smiled knowingly. "And when exactly did I agree to go to this party?"

"Last night."

"I did?"

"You don't remember?"

She just stared at him blankly.

"Must be the sex-brain," he muttered.

Hermione would have caused him bodily harm but the waitress was just returning with Hermione's wine and Harry's beer.

"You ordered for me?" he asked, looking at her in some form of wonder.

"Of course."

It was going to take a miracle for him to get through the meal without kissing her. It was electric, almost unstoppable, his desire. It surprised him, really, that nothing seemed to be enough when it came to her. It had never been like this with anyone else, and he was determined to hold onto it for as long as possible.

"Are you ready to order?" the waitress asked, unable to take her eyes off Harry.

Hermione felt something stir in her that she didn't like. For a second, she thought, quite comically, that Harry was _hers_ but she quickly shut that down. She'd made the rules. She wasn't allowed to feel anything possessive towards him, even if they were exclusive with their benefits.

"I'll have the lamb," Hermione told the waitress.

Harry winked at Hermione before he looked at the waitress. "I'll have what she's having."

Before Hermione could protest, Harry was speaking again.

"On second thought, I think I'll have the rump steak," he said. "Medium rare."

"Of course."

Once the waitress was out of earshot, Hermione rounded on Harry, giving him a glare that made him shiver in excitement. "Is this what it's always going to be like with you?"

"Hermione Granger, I promise you that, with me, your life will never be boring."

"What if I wanted a boring life?"

He looked at her, his green eyes meeting her brown ones and holding them captive. "Then I'm definitely not the guy for you."

Hermione took a deep breath. "And if I didn't want a boring life?"

"You'd marry me in a heartbeat."

"Are you asking?"

Harry gulped. "Would you say yes?"

Hermione's breath hitched. "I don't even want to date _anyone_ , and we're talking about marriage."

"And kids," he added, without thinking.

Hermione was surprised at how calm she felt about this topic of conversation. They'd won a War and now they were afforded the chance to plan for their futures. "Do you want kids?" she asked.

Harry thought about it for a moment. "I think so, yeah. One day. I want a family of my own. Don't you?"

"One day, yes."

"How many?" he asked automatically.

"Probably two, maybe three," she admitted. "I suppose it's something every girl thinks about, I think. Even girls like me."

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked, getting ready to shoot down any of her insecurities. He already had the words ready, intent on proving to her just how wonderful and amazing she was.

But he needn't have worried. "Well, I'm not exactly a _girly_ girl, now am I?" she asked, laughing lightly. "I'm just saying that I reckon we all think about it at some point in our lives."

Harry nodded his understanding. "I bet you even have names picked out and everything, don't you?"

Hermione blushed. "Don't judge me."

"Tell me."

Her immediate response was enough to let him know that he was indeed right. She had names prepared. "Alexander, after my grandfather."

"I didn't know your grandfather's name is Alexander."

"Was," she informed him. "He passed away when I was sixteen."

He frowned. "Why didn't I know?"

"We had a lot to deal with at the time," she said, dropping her gaze.

Harry reached for her hand. "I'm so sorry, Hermione."

"It's not your fault."

"I know," he said sadly. "But I'm still sorry."

Hermione released his hand before anyone could see. _This_ was her Harry, gentle and true. This was the boy she adored.

They were quiet until their food arrived, and then Hermione got very vocal with her opinions on the lamb. Harry loved listening to her talk. Even when he wasn't actually listening; he was still content to stare at her mouth. She had wonderful lips. And great teeth.

"Swap time," she said at some point, and he grinned at her.

"It's going to be difficult to find you a guy who's okay with doing this," he said, swapping their plates around so she had the rump steak and he had the lamb.

"If he loves me, he would do it," Hermione said without thinking.

"Does this mean that I love you?"

"You better love me."

He smirked. "I'll be loving you repeatedly later tonight."

She laughed lightly. "Finish eating that fast so we can get out of here. I don't think that I can wait until tonight."

Harry made a show of rushing his food, even stuffing his mouth to capacity. "Oh my god. This is amazing!" he mumbled. He chewed and swallowed. "I definitely should have ordered the lamb."

"I'm going to make you pay for that later."

Harry felt a shiver run up his spine, and he had to look away from her to calm himself down. He couldn't even enjoy his meal anymore now that the prospect of _her_ was on the table. He almost wanted to Vanish his meal so that he could get her back to the apartment right that very second. He could be incredibly impatient when it came to the prospect of Hermione and her body.

Before she had even finished with the steak, Harry was asking for the bill. He paid it so quickly that Hermione had to down her wine in one large gulp before he was practically pulling her to her feet.

"Let's go home," he said, leading the way out of the restaurant.

"Harry, our food hasn't even digested."

"I don't care." He didn't. He really didn't. All he wanted was to get her in a bedroom - or against a wall, on a counter, in a cubicle - and make her his. That was all.

Harry led her into an empty alleyway, and walked until they were hidden by a large dustbin. He pulled her flush against him, his lips seeking hers. And then they were in her bedroom - she'd keyed him into the wards of her bedroom - and he was ripping at her clothes.

"Harry!"

"We'll fix it later," he murmured.

"What if Ron is home?"

"He's not."

"How do you know?"

He stopped suddenly. "You're really ruining the mood here, Hermione," he said dryly.

"Getting caught would also ruin the mood," she pointed out.

He sighed. "Fine. I'll go look."

While he was gone, Hermione surveyed her top. It really was ripped. That boy. Gingerly, she lifted it up and off her body before using her wand to repair it. She'd been doing that a lot lately. Harry had no patience for the boundaries of clothing sometimes.

When Harry returned, he found Hermione in her bra. "Nobody's home, and you look fucking sexy."

"It's the one you bought."

"With the matching knickers?"

"You'll have to see for yourself," she said, drawing him towards her by crooking her finger.

He didn't move, suddenly too in awe to get his feet moving again. She amazed him sometimes - no, all the time. "I'm so glad that I get to see this side of you," he said in a whisper, already breathless.

"Would you have ever believed that it existed without seeing it for yourself?"

He thought about it for a moment. "I don't know."

"Come here."

Harry didn't have to be told twice. They were alone and behind a Silencing Charm so Hermione was allowed to be as loud as she wanted. And Harry absolutely loved to hear her scream his name. It made him feel powerful, manly, wanted.

Sometimes, he even felt _loved_.

But Harry's favourite part had to be what happened after they were finished. He loved to watch her move to lie on her stomach and turn to look at him. She always _looked_ at him. Without fail. She didn't always smile but there was something inexplicable in her eyes. The way she looked at him, he would never tire of it. He never wanted to give it up. If he had any say in it, this would never end.

Harry lay on his side, covered up to his chest by her sheets, and watched her watch him.

"You're beautiful," he said softly.

"You're pretty handsome yourself, Mr Potter."

He smiled at her. "Your hair looks terrible."

She laughed. "Those hands of yours. Untameable." She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying this time with him. As much as she loved being with him this way, she knew it wouldn't last forever. It was like borrowed time, as if he were just a loan, and the girl he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with was around the corner; just waiting for Hermione's time with him to be over.

Harry leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead.

She opened her eyes to look at him. She thought back to what Ginny had said and she couldn't deny it. She _was_ happy.

Hermione reached up to kiss him. It was slow and lazy, conveying more meaning than was required for their benefits arrangement. She poured so much into the kiss that she wasn't even sure that she had anything left.

Harry wasn't sure how long they kissed for, but it was all they did, and it strangely meant more to him than what they had done before. He couldn't explain why it carried more meaning, but it just did.

At some point, Hermione pulled away for a final time, lips swollen and eyes glistening. "We should start getting ready," she said, her voice hoarse.

"For?"

"The party."

He groaned. "I want to stay here with you," he whined, pouting adorably and pulling her towards him.

"I already told Ginny we were going. We can't _not_ show up."

"I like it when you use the word 'we,'" he said, blushing slightly.

Hermione pecked his lips one more time and then climbed out of bed, heading towards her bathroom in her birthday suit. Harry was convinced it was the greatest outfit that she owned.

He watched her hungrily. "Can I join you?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

He literally leapt out of bed, and followed after her, hearing her shriek in excitement.

Harry concluded that _every_ part with her was his favourite part. He loved _every_ part of being with her.

By seven o'clock, they were both almost ready to go. Harry found it surprising that Ron didn't come home to get ready. Even though their mutual friend spent most, if not all, of his time either at the joke shop or at his girlfriend's place; he still considered their apartment as home - well, second only to the Burrow. It just made sense for him to return to get dressed for going out.

Not that Harry was complaining.

"Have you seen my pink top?" Hermione asked, coming into Harry's bedroom dressed only in her jeans, boots and lacy bra.

Harry stared at her, his mouth going dry. "Which one?" he managed to ask.

"The ones with the buttons you like. Shaped like snitches."

"That _is_ my favourite top," he agreed. "Your breasts look amazing in that top."

"Exactly why I want to wear it," she said, winking at him. "I might even bite my bottom lip."

"So you intend to torture me then?"

She nodded unapologetically. "Have you seen it?"

He shook his head. "Check the laundry hamper. I did a load Thursday morning."

She smiled at him. "I love the fact that you do laundry. It's incredibly sexy."

"A bloke needs clean clothes," he said nonchalantly. "Has to impress his lady."

Hermione blew him a kiss and then left the room. Harry stood still for a moment. _His lady_. Hermione.

He could live with that.

Harry finished getting ready, dousing himself in cologne and running a hand through his unruly hair. There was no point in trying to comb it; nothing would help. And it didn't even matter; Hermione's fingers would be in it soon enough. Well, he hoped that they would be.

He left his room. "Hermione? Are you ready to go?"

"Just a second."

He waited a full minute before he went to find her. She was in her bedroom, sitting at her dresser, and Harry was suddenly incredibly turned on.

Hermione looked at him in her mirror, reading his facial expression for exactly what it was. "No," she warned. "Harry, no."

"I didn't say anything."

"You don't have to. I can see it in your eyes. We're leaving now."

"But I want you," he breathed.

She laughed lightly as she finished up with her hair and stood up.

Harry's heart started to race. "You really are trying to kill me."

She moved towards him. "I promise, when we get home, we will have lots of dirty sex."

"Promise?"

She reached up to kiss him, and then she was moving away from him. She grabbed her bag, and made her way to the living room.

Harry followed after a moment, trying to hide his sulk.

"Smile, babe," she said, smiling her own reassuring smile at him. "We're about to go and see our friends. They'll know something's up with you."

He reached for her and drew her into a hug. She let him hold onto her for as long as he needed. A large part of her knew that this moment had nothing to do with the fact that she'd refused him sex. It was something else.

Maybe to do with unkept promises, or even things that he wouldn't ever have in his life. She even thought that it had something to do with the talk about her possible future children.

In this moment, she was his best friend.

He finally released her, first kissing her cheek. "We should go."

Hermione nodded once, taking hold of his hand. She squeezed it tightly with her own, trying to convey to him something she couldn't with words. Harry just smiled at her. She took a breath before she Apparated them both into Dean and Seamus' apartment and were almost immediately pulled apart by people's excitement at their arrival.

If Hermione had her way, she wouldn't have let go of his hand ever again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

There was, of course, a loud cheer as soon as Harry and Hermione were spotted, and they were soon swallowed up by the crowd.

Harry had to admit that he rather enjoyed being among his friends. As much as he tried to be present in all conversation, he kept tabs on Hermione's movement through the apartment, constantly needing to know where she was. He always smiled whenever he found that she was already looking at him as well.

Harry literally couldn't wait to get her home.

When Ginny and Neville arrived, there was another loud cheer. It seemed that people were keen on making appearances in pairs, which Seamus was quick to point out to the new couple. Both Gryffindors were already blushing.

Harry watched as Hermione and Ginny moved to one corner of the room and engaged in what seemed to be an animated conversation. Ginny was probably retelling every detail of her date. Girls. Harry would never understand them, and that was okay.

"What if he comes over here?" Ron asked Harry, forcing the raven-haired wizard to look away from the two witches.

"Hmm?"

"Neville. What if he comes over here? What do I say, knowing that he's just been out _on a date_ with my sister?"

"It'll be fine," Harry assured him. "Just relax. Be yourself."

"Which one? I can't do both."

Harry laughed out loud at that, drawing attention to himself. As if he needed any more. He did, however, notice that Hermione looked at him and that sent a warm feeling right through his body. That witch, and those eyes. Harry almost purred.

Neville did join them eventually and Ron took a moment to size up their fellow Gryffindor, which Harry found rather amusing. Ron hadn't acted this way when Harry had briefly dated Ginny in their sixth year at Hogwarts. He supposed that even the redhead knew that it wouldn't have worked out between his best friend and his sister.

Luna asked Neville questions about the date but he was obviously reluctant to divulge what did happen earlier that night. If he were being honest, Harry wouldn't have wanted to give away any details either. A part of him didn't want anyone to know what he and Hermione did, and then another part of him wanted _everyone_ to know.

When Ginny and Hermione joined their little group, they were both smiling secretively. Harry had to admit that he was curious but he didn't ask any questions. Tonight, Harry Potter was content to observe.

All of a sudden, there were endless conversations going on all around him, but it was one piece that he ended up catching that drew his full attention.

"Is he here?" Ginny asked Hermione.

"Is who here?" Luna asked, cutting into their conversation, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Ginny looked at the blonde. "I've been able to determine that Hermione is really happy for some reason, and that it involves a guy," she explained. "I'm asking her if he's here right now but she's being incredibly tight-lipped about it."

Harry couldn't help but smile.

Hermione couldn't bear to look at him, her blush reaching full force. "Ginny!" she hissed.

"Oh, he _is_ here, isn't he?" Ginny asked, turning her head to look around the room. "Where? Where is he?"

"Ginny," Hermione said seriously. "Stop."

Harry literally couldn't stop smiling.

He made her _happy_.

That was everything to him in this moment. He wanted to make his way towards her and take her in his arms and whisk her away from this place but he remained rooted in his spot, a beer in his hand, waiting patiently for the night to end.

"We should dance," Ginny said. "Now!" She grabbed Neville's hand and pulled him away. Luna did the same with Ron, and Harry and Hermione were left alone, the way they now always were. And sometimes wanted to be.

"Don't you dare say anything, Harry Potter," she reprimanded before he even had the chance to say a word.

He reached for her hand and brought it up to rest on his chest, just over his heart. "You make me happy too, Hermione Granger," he said softly, seriously. There was the same intensity in his voice that was capable of robbing her of breath. His words always ended up sounding like a profound declaration; a heated promise.

Hermione blushed profusely, and she took her hand back. As if his ego needed any more stroking. Really, he looked so smug, and it was turning her on in a way that only he could manage. "Harry," she said after a while, her breath already ragged just from her whirling thoughts. "I'm going to go to the bathroom now. Okay?"

Her eyes told him all he needed to know and he even shifted in anticipation. "Okay."

Harry watched her leave, relatively unnoticed. He waited about thirty seconds before he left as well, mumbling something about going to the bathroom to anyone close enough to hear. He hoped nobody would ask questions about their absence.

Hermione was waiting for him. Harry locked the door while she cast all the necessary Charms, recent habits coming into play. And then they were grabbing at each other, wasting no time in getting to the parts of the body they desperately wanted. As fun as it was to undress Hermione; he suddenly wished that she'd worn a dress.

The entire time though, all Harry could really think about was that he made her happy and she made him happy and that was the greatest thing to come out of this entire night. He couldn't explain why it meant so much to him, but it did. He made her happy. He made her happy. He made her happy. Oh Merlin, he made her happy.

They were done quicker than Harry would like anyone to know, but Hermione didn't seem to mind. It was better that they were quick and she told him so.

Once he was cleaned up and straightened out, Harry left the bathroom and returned to the party, unable to keep the goofy, shit-eating grin off his face. Nobody really seemed to notice he had left. Or, if they had, they said nothing. Even famous wizards were human beings.

Hermione returned about a minute later, looking particularly flushed. She moved to sit down on the couch with Ginny and Neville, while Harry fetched himself another beer. They could probably get away with staying another half hour before they could leave.

Harry wanted to leave _now_.

He moved over to where Dean and Seamus were standing, engaged in some conversation about football. Harry couldn't help but smile. This was a conversation he could handle.

He must have lost track of time because, before he knew it, Hermione was tapping him on the shoulder, amazed that she actually had to touch him to get his attention. He could normally sense when she was near and he hadn't even responded when she said his name.

He turned to look at her, spying the slight crease in her brow.

"I'm going to head home now," she said softly. "Ron and Luna are coming with me. Apparently you have the best coffee."

"That I do."

She smiled. "I'll see you later."

He returned her smile and forcibly had to stop himself from touching her. "Later."

She said a quick goodbye to Dean and Seamus, absently giving them kisses on their cheeks. And then she was gone.

Harry took a moment before he returned to the conversation, welcoming the distraction. It wouldn't do for Harry and Hermione to leave together. It would only raise suspicions, even though they _did_ live together.

Dean even asked him which of the lovely ladies he was eyeing, to which Harry had no response. The only lovely lady he was eyeing was already at home, hopefully waiting for him.

"The brunette in the corner hasn't stopped looking at you," Seamus said, nudging Harry with his elbow. "I reckon you should go for it."

"I'm a little tired," Harry said, not even looking in the direction of said brunette. "Maybe another night."

Both boys stared at him with gaping mouths.

"Seriously?" Dean asked.

Harry nodded. "I think I'm getting too old," he added with a laugh.

"Well, your birthday _is_ coming up," Seamus said, laughing as well. "Are you about to tell us you're also heading home then?"

Harry chose that moment to yawn. "I think that's best," he said.

Harry did the rounds with his farewells, visibly breaking a few witch's hearts. He didn't care. There was only one witch he was thinking about. One very important witch, who he suddenly couldn't wait to see.

Harry Apparated straight into his own room. He wondered if anyone heard, but he wasn't bothered to go looking. His room was empty so he made his way to Hermione's bedroom, only to find it also empty. He didn't mind. He hadn't heard any voices, but it wasn't worrying. She'd come to bed eventually. She'd come to him.

He quickly stripped down to his boxers and climbed into her bed, getting deep under the covers and hiding his face. He would wait for her.

Only, he didn't anticipate falling asleep before she arrived.

Harry woke up to the feel of a cool body sliding in next to him and he automatically reached for her, pulling her snug against him.

"We don't spend nights in my bed, Harry," Hermione said, relaxing into his embrace. "We can't be in here."

He kept his eyes closed. "I'm not moving. You can go and sleep in my bed if you want to."

She chuckled softly. "Who said anything about sleep?"

That made his eyes fly open.

"That got your attention, didn't it?"

Harry pulled her closer, closing his eyes again. "Are Ron and Luna still here?"

"Yes."

"Spending the night?"

"To the best of my knowledge, yes."

He ran a hand over her smooth stomach. "Hermione, what are you wearing?"

"Can't you feel it?"

"I don't feel anything," he said.

She remained silent.

He chuckled. "Oh, I see," he said softly, kissing her bare shoulder. "Hermione, my little genius."

"It also doesn't help that you keep ripping things off of me," she muttered, her hands seeking his chest. "I don't think I've performed the _Reparo_ Charm so often before. My clothes are falling apart."

"I just don't even see why you bother wearing knickers at all," he said, this debate ongoing between them. "They just get in the way."

"Why do you wear boxers?"

"Because I don't wear briefs."

Hermione placed a kiss against the underside of his chin. "You're such an idiot sometimes," she said, laughing lightly. "And you need to shave."

Harry opened his eyes to look at her face. She was already looking at him and he could see it in her eyes. It was as plain as day. She was _happy_. Why hadn't he seen it before?

"I promised you lots of dirty sex," she reminded him.

"I know," he said, running his hands over her sides and then down the smooth skin of her back. He didn't think he was quite up for that kind of sex tonight.

Harry felt lazy from his own happiness, and it translated into the way he kissed her, and eventually made love to her, slow and deep, and meaningful.

Harry fell asleep almost immediately, but Hermione remained awake for quite some time.

This night was different.

She'd felt something new, as he looked at her while he pushed into her. It was the stirrings of something unwanted, she knew. This night, she was sure, was going to change everything.

 _Ruin_ everything.

* * *

Things might have changed between them but it wasn't the kind that was entirely noticeable if a person didn't know what to be looking for. Harry and Hermione were already so close that it took someone really interested to notice that their looks lingered more and their touches lasted longer. Both in public and when they were alone.

If anyone really asked, Hermione would have to admit that their mutual pleasure intensified. It was amazing what a bit of _feelin_ g could do.

Whatever that feeling was, she wouldn't know. Or wouldn't allow herself to know.

They were happy, even blissful, in their little cocoon. They fit so well, planning their lives around each other that it was always going to take something external to get them to acknowledge the reality of what their arrangement truly meant.

It came quite a few days after the _shift_. It was the day Hermione was visiting St Andrew's campus, to get a feel of the grounds, to see her campus residence and even peruse the great libraries.

Harry offered to accompany her but she politely declined. It was a solo orientation anyway. There were quite a few people present with her, taking the tour and marvelling at how beautiful it all was. Hermione found that she couldn't wait to tell Harry all about it. Nothing in her day seemed remotely important until he knew about it and _that_ had started long before this summer.

But then something strange happened.

Generally not one to make friends that easily, she fell into step with a set of twins, a boy and a girl. It was easy to make conversation with them. Hermione supposed that she would fit into a place that prided itself on academic achievements more than anything. She wouldn't be a _mudblood_ here and she wouldn't be shunned for her almost obsessive studying habits.

The strange thing happened just before she departed St Andrew's, having just said goodbye to her new 'friends.' It was the type of strange that Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to tell Harry about, which was about as alarming as arriving back at the apartment and finding it empty of any inhabitants.

Her initial panic was quickly squashed by a note left on her dresser in her bedroom. Trust Harry to ease her mind when he wasn't even around. From it, she was able to gather that Harry was on a run, Ron was at Luna's, Harry couldn't wait to hear all about St Andrew's and that he missed her today.

Hermione had to admit that she'd missed him quite terribly as well.

Hermione busied herself with brochures and book lists while she waited. She felt like all she now did was wait until she was with him again; as if she wasn't really living when he wasn't around. If she allowed herself to look at it as what it really was, she probably wouldn't have liked what she would see. It was bordering unhealthy, and definitely not what was expected of their arrangement.

When she first heard the sound of the front door, she got up from her desk and moved towards the entrance hall. Whenever Harry went running, he liked to leave and enter as a Muggle, just to be authentic to the experience.

Hermione watched him set his keys down on the counter and then start to unzip his sports' jacket.

She couldn't resist. "Hey you."

He beamed at the sight of her, sending a wave of desire right through her.

"How was your run?" she asked.

He removed his jacket and tossed it over a stool before he started to move towards her. "It was okay," he let her know. "Though I almost got run over by a lorry."

She smiled, her eyes drifting over the muscles of his arms. "Damn. My hit-man failed."

He laughed, coming to a stop right in front of her. His hands reached for her waist and he pulled her into a 'welcome home' kiss that had her knees buckling. When he pulled away, he was still smiling. "How was St Andrew's?" he asked, not releasing her waist.

"It's beautiful, Harry. And the main library is literally to die for. I'm certain I could spend the rest of my life in there."

"Did you see where you'll be staying?" he asked, attempting and probably failing to hide the hint of sadness in his tone. He didn't want her to leave but he knew he wouldn't be able to tell her so.

"I did. It's lovely. Though nothing could quite compare to my room here. I'm spoilt."

"That's because I'm always in your room here," he said, winking before he kissed her again.

"I met a few people who will be starting with me," she told him, turning thoughtful. "I think I'm going to enjoy playing Muggle. I'll be judged on my brain only, not my blood."

"I hate that you'll be judged at all," he muttered.

She shrugged. "That's the way it is everywhere, Mr Potter."

"Do you judge the fact that I haven't yet made decisions about my future?" he asked, needing to know.

Hermione took a moment to think about her response. She didn't know where the question was coming from but it looked to be something that was really bothering him. "Sometimes," she admitted. "I just want so much for you, Harry, and I worry that you won't go out there and seize the opportunity to be so much more than what the world already perceives you to be."

He took a breath.

"I know you needed time," she continued. "You deserved a breather, an opportunity to live without expectations or worries. But when is that time enough, you know?"

"I know," he agreed. "I do know what I want to do," he admitted. "I've actually been working on it for a while."

"Will you tell me?"

"When I know more, you will be the first, I promise." He swooped in to kiss her again but he sensed hesitation on her part and he pulled away. "What's wrong?"

"What?"

"I can tell something is wrong," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Talk to me."

Could she? This was Harry... of course she could. "Something strange happened today."

He blinked. "Okay... what happened?"

"I got asked out."

Harry just stared at her for a moment. "Oh." He released her waist and ran a hand through his damp hair. "What did you say?"

"Of course I said no," she informed him. "We have an arrangement."

"Which centres on neither of us wanting to date other people right now," he said, reminding her. "You said that if either of us did want to date, this would stop."

"That is what I said."

"So, is this your telling me you want to start dating again?" His voice almost caught but he managed to get through the question.

 _Keep it together, Potter._

"No," she said strongly, meeting his gaze. "I'm not ready to give this up yet."

Harry let out a relieved breath.

"It just opened my eyes to the reality of what we are doing here, Harry," she explained, reaching for his t-shirt, which was damp with sweat. "At some point, we're both going to be with other people. It's a sobering thought, particularly when I think about what dirty things I want to do to you right now."

He shivered. "What? Your lorry man failed so you're taking it upon yourself to kill me?"

"If you want something done right the first time, you just have to do it yourself." She reached up to kiss him, fingers already moving into his damp hair.

"I'm all sweaty and sticky," he mumbled against her lips. "I was going to take a shower."

"I think that's the best idea you've ever had."

Harry immediately picked her up, making her giggle. She wrapped her legs tight around his hips and kissed his neck as he made their way to his bathroom. He walked right into the shower fully dressed and turned on the water, making Hermione laugh.

"Do you know how hard it's going to be to get our clothes off now?" Hermione asked, dropping her feet down to the ground.

"The prize is so worth the work," he said, eyeing her possessively.

Yes, that was what it was. _Possessiveness_. Hermione could see it as clear as day, and she had a feeling that he knew she could see it. She didn't quite know if she was okay with it. It would make letting go of him so much harder, when the time came.

When the time came, and it _would_ ; it would break her heart.

She was suddenly thankful for St Andrew's. That way, while she was away, she wouldn't have to watch him climb into another woman's bed. It just felt like such a waste. All this time with him.

But then she would look at him, and he would be smiling that lopsided grin of his and she knew she would give in every time.

 _Every_ time.

Hermione didn't think about the boy who asked her out because there was another, much more important boy nestled between her legs, always loving her in some new way. Those hands. And that mouth!

She noticed that he started to do this thing where he looked into her eyes more often. Despite the fact that she liked it; she knew it was a bad idea. When he looked at her the way he was, matching her for thrusts, they were standing on the edge of a cliff that could and would turn this arrangement into something messy.

"Look at me," he'd say, and she couldn't not look at him. In that moment, she was his. Possessive or not, Hermione Granger already belonged to Harry Potter in every way.

Harry still loved the moments after they were finished and he doubted he would ever stop. She rolled onto her stomach and turned her face towards him. He didn't think he could ever get over the way she looked at him. It stole his breath.

The sheets of his bed were slightly damp as he pulled them up and over them. They hadn't really bothered with towels after they'd gone a little crazy in the shower.

Hermione's _look_ turned into quite a pleasant, content smile.

"What?" he asked, noticing something different in her gaze.

"Thank you," she said hoarsely.

"For what?"

"For making staying with you the easiest decision I have ever made."

He swallowed. "And there I thought you were going to thank me for the mind-blowing orgasms you just had."

"Now that you mention it," she teased.

He laughed. "Thank you, as well."

"For what?"

"Not ending it. I'm not ready either."

Hermione's fingers automatically moved to his chest, drawing circles over his skin. In this moment, there was nobody else on this earth that she would rather be with. He was it, and there wasn't a damn thing she wanted to do to change that.

It happened that way.

Slowly, their arrangement became the thing that kept her grounded. Having Harry was the most important thing in her life, and she didn't even care just how unhealthy that was. She had to care. She _needed_ to care, for the sake of their friendship after all of this came to an end but she just couldn't bring herself to.

They existed in their secret lives, going about their business with such ease that his upcoming birthday almost felt like a spanner in the works. Why oh why did he suddenly have to _age_?

Hermione had to take a breath. He was turning nineteen? They were both still teenagers.

"Mum wants to have a party at the Burrow," Ron informed both Harry and Hermione on a rare occasion that he was actually at the apartment with them.

If Hermione were really critical, she would probably blame Harry's womanising on Ron. Without his best friend around, really, what else could Harry have done with his free time? Lonely men did wanton things; history had proven it.

"What did you tell her?" Harry asked Ron.

"I told her I'd come talk to you about it. She won't make decisions unless you're on board," he said, grinning at his friend. "Surprising, isn't it?"

Harry looked at Hermione. The truth was that Hermione had already made plans for Harry's birthday. Were they really that naive to think that they could slip away for an entire weekend without drawing suspicion?

"When did she have in mind?" Harry asked.

"The night of," Ron let them know. "It'll be small. Just a dinner, I think."

Harry nodded. "That sounds good, I reckon. It's better, because I kind of have a project meeting I have to attend in York."

Ron just eyed him. "The _secret_ project, huh?"

Harry relaxed into the couch a bit more, choosing not to respond. He hadn't told his two friends much about what he was working on, and Ron was making it his mission to niggle it out of him.

Hermione took the cue. "And I've got an orientation weekend at St Andrew's."

Ron eyed her as well. "Quite the coincidence, isn't it?"

Harry was calm. "No, it's not. I planned my meeting around Hermione's weekend, so that nobody is spending the weekend here alone."

"But I live here," Ron pointed out.

Hermione shot him a heated look. "And maybe you could tell me just how many weekends you _have_ spent here since I arrived?"

Ron dropped his gaze.

"That's what I thought."

Harry smiled at Hermione and she stuck her tongue out at him. He wanted to climb onto her and claim that tongue of hers as his own. How dare she tempt him with Ron right there?

"So that's a yes then?" Ron asked eventually, looking up.

Harry nodded. "Sure, okay. It sounds like fun."

Ron stood up. "Great!"

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked.

Ron froze. "Umm, I was going to Luna's. Is that okay?"

"Of course, Ron," Hermione said, smiling. "We'll be here."

Ron gave them one last look before he Disapparated away.

Harry and Hermione waited a beat before Harry was rushing towards her.

"Don't you tempt me with that tongue of yours," he growled, climbing over the couch to get to her.

Hermione hurried out of her own seat to get away, shrieking in excitement. Harry chased her through the apartment, until he managed to hook her by the waist, his right arm closing around her.

She swatted at him, laughing out loud. "Let me go," she protested.

He carried her into his bedroom, shut the door with his foot and then threw her down onto the bed.

Hermione just stared at him, a little surprised. " _Oh Harry Potter_ ," she said, stretching out the words.

He climbed onto the bed and crawled towards her until he was hovering over her. "Do you think that we'll really be able to go away for a whole weekend?" he asked, dipping his head to nip at the skin of her neck.

Hermione's fingers moved to his hair. "We can try," she said breathlessly. "We've given them no reason to suspect anything."

Harry thought back to the conversation he'd had with Ron before Hermione graduated. What did Ron know? What could he see? "Oh, if they only knew what dirty things you and I do," he whispered in her ear before gently biting her earlobe.

"Hmm."

He trailed kisses along her jawline and down her neck to her collarbone. Before he could pull off her top and get to the skin he really wanter, they heard the distinct sound of Apparation. Was Ron already back? There had to be a serious reason.

"Up, up, get up," Hermione said, pushing him off of her. He fell off the bed with a thud, and then Hermione was up and running to his bathroom so quickly that Harry got dizzy watching her.

Harry rose to his feet and stared down at his pants. He groaned. In a quick move, he tucked the evidence of his arousal away and went to the bedroom door. He opened it enough to peak out.

George Weasley stood, trapped in the living room, with a rather perplexed look on his face.

Harry took a deep breath before he stepped out of the room and went to retrieve his friend from behind the secondary wards.

"There you are," George said when he spotted Harry. "Neville told me to get you."

Harry didn't have to ask to what he was referring. "Okay, let me just grab some shoes. Meet you there?"

George nodded, and then he was gone.

Harry rushed back to his bedroom and threw on a pair of shoes. He grabbed a jacket and moved towards his bathroom. Hermione was reading the back of his shampoo while sitting on the lid of his toilet.

"I've got to go," he said when she looked at him. "It's, umm, a St Mungo's thing."

Hermione stood up. "Is everything okay?"

"I don't know."

"Okay." She moved towards him, forcing herself not to ask more questions. "I'll see you later."

He gave her a parting kiss. "Later."

Hermione didn't think his _later_ would be some time in the early morning. She tried to stay up as long as she could but she gave up just after midnight. It felt weird climbing into a bed without him. She wasn't sure what it was but it was so much colder.

When Harry did get home, he made his way straight to her room, stripped to his boxers and climbed in behind her. He didn't think he'd woken her until she shifted backwards to be held in his arms.

"Is everything okay?" she asked softly.

Harry snaked an arm under her and pulled her even closer to him. "No," he said sadly.

Hermione didn't say anything. She rather waited for him to continue in his own time.

"We've been going to St Mungo's for Neville," he eventually started to explain. "Now that he's of age, he has full power of attorney over his parents. So he's had the Healers try any last ditch efforts to bring them back. The past few years have seen them fall into full-blown comas. And well, nothing has worked, so he decided, tonight, to end their suffering for good."

Hermione took in a sharp breath.

"It isn't like he really knew them, not really. He was still a baby when they were attacked, but he's still a mess. Ginny is with him now. I just, I had to come home and see you. I need to hold you. You make it all better.

"I don't know if I could have done it," he continued, tightening his hold on her. "I think I'm lucky in the fact that my parents actually _died_. Having them at St Mungo's this entire time would have been horrible, and he's just been so strong, and I - " his voice caught. "I thought it was over, you know? The death and the War. But Voldemort and his followers are just the gifts that keep on giving."

"He'll get through it," Hermione said determinedly. "He has all of us to help him."

"Now he's really an orphan, Hermione." He held her tight enough for her to feel his heart beating through her back. "Wars are horrible things."

"Yes they are," she agreed quietly. "Try to get some sleep now," she cooed. "I'm right here."

Harry couldn't let go if he tried. There was no life for him without Hermione Granger. It was that simple. In every capacity, he would need her.

But could he tell her?


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Neville's parents were buried a week later in Godric's Hollow.

Hermione noticed that Harry fell into a bit of a lull. He wasn't as excitable or as restless as he usually was. It was as if he was distracted by something; something inside of him. And whatever his secret project was; it seemed to kick into gear, and he was out of the apartment more often than not.

It didn't stop him from being with her though. All of a sudden, it was as if he was holding onto her, and was determined not to let go. Death tended to do that to a person.

Harry and Hermione attended the funerals together, both of them not particularly bothered with appearances at this point. It wasn't a sad affair. Neville wanted a celebration of the lives of his parents.

Majority of the funeral party headed to the Leaky Cauldron for a round of drinks after the ceremonies, and then everyone went home. Neville didn't want to drag it out any longer than he had to. It had already taken too many years for his parents to find a semblance of peace.

The entire thing just helped Harry with his secret project. He decided that it was definitely time to implement the first thing on his agenda and it was time to set it all in motion, which became increasingly easier when your name was Harry James Potter.

Harry's birthday dinner was also Neville's birthday dinner, which neither boy minded. In fact, they both decided that it was quite a relief to be able to share the attention. Ginny was dutifully at Neville's side the entire night and, perhaps subconsciously, Hermione was never too far away from Harry's.

None of the gifts Harry received quite compared to those Hermione had given him that morning. He had woken up to a very naked Hermione lying on top of him; her hands already doing things that only hers could do.

Suffice to say, she complained about being sore the entire day, which always made him blush. He really hadn't been all that gentle. And, well, she hadn't been all that quiet either.

Harry and Hermione kept experiencing shifts in their arrangement, which was starting to look more and more like a relationship.

Just a secret one.

And their upcoming birthday weekend away was just going to shift things once more. Hermione made them promise each other that they would leave the emotion of the most recent deaths behind and just go and enjoy themselves. It wouldn't be easy, she knew, but she made them both promise to try.

Harry was only too happy to do so. If he really thought about it, he'd have to say that this weekend couldn't have come at a better time. He and Hermione both needed to get away for a while. And going away _together_ just made it that bit better.

They planned it out well. Well, Hermione planned it.

Harry left first, heading out just after the lunch that he had with Ron on Friday afternoon and Hermione left a few hours later, heading out from the Burrow, after she checked in with Ginny and Neville. She did Apparate to St Andrew's first, and then to York, as planned.

Harry met her in the lobby of the hotel he'd checked them into. It wasn't the hotel they'd initially decided on but Harry wasn't listening to her protests. He was intent on spoiling them both. By spoiling her; he spoilt himself as well.

"Fancy seeing you here?" he said, pulling her into a tight hug.

"Surprising, isn't it?"

He kissed her forehead. "Come on, let me show you to our room."

It was a suite, complete with all the luxuries one would expect on a romantic getaway. Harry had even ordered champagne, chocolate covered strawberries and roses. So cliché.

"My my, Mr Potter, are you trying to seduce me?" Hermione asked, once they were in the room.

Harry took hold of her hand, seemingly unafraid to admit it. "Yes, yes I am. Is it working?"

Hermione answered him by flinging herself at him and attacking his mouth with her own.

Neither of them bothered to emerge from the room until the next morning. Really, Harry didn't think that he could survive another night like that. It oddly reminded him of their very first night together, in their eagerness to pleasure each other as many times as their bodies would allow.

Harry practically collapsed after _his_ sixth time, his muscles even starting to cramp up.

Hermione, as usual, was lying on her stomach and looking at him. That look. Wow, he would marry that look if he could.

"Enough," he said, still trying to catch his breath.

Hermione nodded her agreement, smiling slightly. "I couldn't even if I wanted to."

"And you always want to," he breathed.

"Have you seen yourself? Who wouldn't want _that_ all day every day?"

Harry rolled over onto his side so he was close enough to touch her. The bed was easily big enough for him to roll over four times before he reached the other end. "It was the strawberries, wasn't it?"

"It was incredibly cliché, but boy did it work," she said, smiling. She closed her eyes when he ran his warm fingers over the skin of her back.

"I like this," he said softly. "Being able to be with you without worrying about someone catching us. I mean, as exciting as that all is, this makes me feel quite calm."

Hermione shifted closer to him. "We can sleep in as late as we want, spend the entire day in bed, have sex whenever or wherever we want to, and not have to listen for the sound of Apparation. Me thinks I like it too."

Harry gave her a slow, languid kiss, before he closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep, only to wake up to a body shifting on top of him. His eyes opened to see that Hermione was straddling his hips, looking at him expectantly.

"Hi," he breathed, his eyes slightly unfocused.

"When I said we could sleep in as late as we wanted, I didn't mean into the afternoon," she said briskly, shifting her hips over his and waking up Little Harry.

He chuckled through a hiss of pleasure. "You exhausted me," he let her know, his hands sliding up her bare thighs. "Why? Did you miss me?"

She nodded, biting her bottom lip in protest.

He growled - oh, he was fully awake now. "You know I can't stand it when you do that!" In one quick motion, he had them flipped over, and he was deep inside her before she even knew what was happening.

They both let out a groan, smiles immediately framing their faces.

"Good morning," Harry whispered, his lips finding her neck, tasting her skin as he started to move, his thrusts immediately frantic.

It didn't take long for her to start saying his name, and Harry felt something stir within him. It was inexplicable but he knew that the feeling was really important. He could tell that it was defining, but he needed to ignore it. _Now_ wasn't the time to analyse the inner workings of his deeper feelings.

"Look at me."

Hermione didn't dare take her eyes off of his. She couldn't. She wanted to see him almost as much as he wanted to see her. It was bad. What they were doing, it wasn't part of the arrangement. It wasn't anything that had been voiced, but looking at each other the way that they were made it feel like a lot more than _just sex_.

Perhaps they should try out some of those other positions; the ones with less eye contact. Hermione thought they were more impersonal, which was maybe what they needed.

She could worry about it later. She currently had an epic climax to enjoy.

When Harry rolled off of her, he was completely breathless, with a goofy smile on his face. "I could wake up to that every morning for the rest of my life," he said, his eyes focused on the ceiling.

Hermione decided not to say anything about that as she turned to lie on her stomach and look at him. She watched his chest rise and fall a few times before her eyes drifted to the content look on his face. She could definitely wake up and see _that_ every morning. "I ordered us breakfast," she said, her voice hoarse.

"Strawberries?"

She laughed. "I don't think our libidos could survive _that_ aphrodisiac right now."

Harry took a long, deep breath, before he rolled out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. He made quick work of brushing his teeth before he hopped in the shower. Hermione joined him a minute later and made sure to tell him that she wanted to shower; that was all. He just nodded, and then proceeded to use those hands of his to bring her to his mercy.

They spent majority of the day in their bath robes, being disgustingly lazy. They ate delicious food, watched bad television and made use of the fact that they couldn't get caught in compromising positions to the absolute maximum. It was a new record for them.

At around six o'clock, Harry told Hermione to start getting ready.

"For what?"

"Dinner."

Her eyes widened. "But I didn't bring anything to wear."

He tilted his head. "Then it's a good thing that I think of everything, isn't it?" He winked at her in a conspiratorial way.

"Harry?"

"There should be something hanging in the cupboard," he informed her, making a show of turning his attention back to the television.

Hermione stared at him for a moment, before conceding. Just as he was sure not to embark on arguments he wouldn't win, she was too. And she definitely wouldn't win this one. She could see it in his eyes. Harry Potter was almost as stubborn as she was.

Harry used the other bathroom to get ready, dressing quite formally in a suit with no tie. Even though he was sure she would complain that this was supposed to be his birthday weekend, he had every intention of spoiling her. Making her happy was what he lived for these days.

Hermione emerged from their bedroom just before seven thirty, wearing the dress he had bought for her. It was form-fitting, navy blue and it stopped just above her knees. It had spaghetti straps and a straight bust.

It was very Hermione, in some regard. She was carrying a light shoal and her clutch, her hair pinned up elegantly.

Harry couldn't help but stare.

"Close your mouth, Harry; it's still me, I promise."

He shook his head, trying to clear it. "Merlin, Hermione, you're so beautiful."

She blushed. "I like the dress. Thank you."

"You won't be thanking me when I rip it off of you later," he said, moving towards her.

"Oh, I see how it is now," she said, laughing lightly. "You just buy me clothes so you can rip them off."

"I would have thought you'd have caught on earlier," he said, winking at her. Then he turned serious. "I may have got you something else as well."

She frowned. "Harry, it's _your_ birthday weekend. _I'm_ supposed to be spoiling _you_."

"You are spoiling me," he said. "Just being here with you is the greatest gift I've ever received."

She gently tugged on his lapel. "Well, aren't you adorable?"

Harry placed a kiss on her cheek before he walked past her and into the bedroom. He rummaged through his bag for a moment before he revealed a long velvet blue box.

"Harry?" Hermione sounded when he returned. "What is that?"

He swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous. He knew she wouldn't like that he spent this much money on her but he wanted to, and so he did. "Well, I just noticed that your neckline looks a little bare," he said, opening the box and revealing a diamond studded necklace.

Hermione gasped. "Harry," she breathed. "This is too much."

"It is?" he asked curiously. "You're sure?"

Hermione just stared at the necklace, the little clear diamonds of the teardrop pendant shining in her eyes. The necklace itself looked to be white gold and Hermione couldn't take her eyes off of it.

"If you're sure," he said, smirking slightly. "Then I should probably take it back." He made a move to close the box but Hermione stopped him.

"Wait," she said. "I mean, it would be such a waste, you know, to not wear it at least once, seeing as it's here right now."

"You're sure?"

She eyed him.

Harry quickly retrieved the necklace from the box and proceeded to clip it on for her. He placed a feather light kiss against the back of her neck once it was in place. "Let me see," he said, making her turn to look at him. "Perfect."

Hermione put a hand on his chest. "Thank you, Harry."

Harry took hold of the hand on his chest and brought it up to his lips and softly kissed her knuckles. The way she was looking at him sealed it all for him in that moment. That feeling that had stirred within him... he suddenly knew exactly what it was.

 _Love_.

He _loved_ Hermione Granger.

Ron was going to enjoy getting to tell him 'I told you so' a little too much after this revelation. Harry was actually surprised by how calm he felt now that he accepted it. He loved Hermione. He'd never loved anyone like this before. Shouldn't he have been scared?

"We should go then," Hermione said, breaking into his thoughts. She took her hand back and straightened her already straight dress. "To wherever it is that we're actually going."

Harry had to shake his head to get rid of all the profound thoughts. He put out his arm. "Shall we, my dear?"

The fact that they even managed to get out of the hotel room without going at it again was a testament to how much Harry wanted to spoil her. The restaurant was incredibly fancy, and the two of them seemed to be some of the youngest seated. It wasn't a place for children, and they received a few skeptical looks. As if Harry Potter couldn't afford to treat his lady to an expensive dinner.

Hermione felt a little uncomfortable in the beginning, but she quickly got over it when Harry ordered an expensive bottle of wine and a full round of starters. That quickly shut up the doubters. Didn't they know who they were dealing with?

"Tell me about your secret project," Hermione said, dabbing at her mouth after a bite of escargot.

He grinned at her. "How secret would it be if you knew?" he asked, his eyes glinting with mischief.

"But it's _me_ ," she said, pouting.

Harry thought about what he _could_ tell her. He didn't even know why he was keeping it a secret. This was Hermione. His best friend. His lover. "I'm starting a foundation," he said. "Well, I have already started it, in honour of the Marauders and my mother."

Hermione just listened in silence.

"It should be fully up and running by the end of this month actually, when we hold our first fundraiser. I've already got half a board, several investors and we're working on implementing some of my plans."

"Plans?"

"My first, and currently most important, plan is that I intend to turn Grimmauld Place into a home for orphans, and for abused children. Children with nowhere else safe to go. It is one of the most secure buildings in England, and I intend to put it to good use."

Hermione just looked at him, feeling her heart skip beats. She felt warmth spread from deep inside her, like whatever she was feeling was too good that it just had to spread outwards.

"Nobody will be turned away. Nobody will be ridiculed. Everyone deserves to feel safe and loved. It's something that's important to me."

Hermione was smiling at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Has anyone ever told you just how special you are, Mr Potter?"

He nodded. "You do. Every day."

"I do?"

"After we have sex, you always give me this look," he began to explain. "I don't know what it is or what it means, but it literally makes the great big world seem so unimportant. It's sometimes what I live for."

Hermione reached for his hand and squeezed it tight, mainly to get him to stop talking. These were not conversations that friends with benefits had. If he said a word more, he would ruin it. If he said a word more, she would start to cry and then _she_ would be the one ruining it.

Thankfully, the waitress arrived to take their order for their mains. Of course, they ordered two entirely different meals. It was at times like these that Hermione was convinced that she would never find someone remotely like him.

Did she even want to?

Did she even _have_ to?

They could be with each other for the rest of their lives. Of that, she was absolutely certain. But did he want that? Did he want her for forever?

Harry steered them towards lighter conversation, which was greatly welcomed by both of them. He even took to teasing her, which Hermione wasn't going to take lying down. There were _other_ ways to make a man burn, that didn't involve her having to say a word.

When their food arrived, they barely spoke. Hermione just made pleased sounds that had Harry feeling increasingly uncomfortable in his trousers.

And then she bit her bottom lip.

It took an obscene amount of effort for him not to leap across the table and devour her right then and there. The wicked witch knew exactly what she was doing to him and she wasn't even batting an eye.

Dessert was so much worse.

After they'd swapped plates of their main meals, she'd toned down her torture somewhat. But then she had to order chocolate mousse, and all Harry could really do was stare at how her perfect mouth worked the spoon.

Harry didn't think he'd been more turned on in all his life. Honestly, it was just a stupid spoon. And lips. And a tongue. That belonged to her. And those eyes, looking at him, tempting him.

It was fucking torture.

"I hate you," he muttered, trying and failing to focus all his attention on his own dessert, which he knew was about to be swapped with hers. Really, he didn't think he could eat the chocolate mousse without making a mess of himself. "If you keep that up, I'm going to end up coming in my trousers," he hissed at her.

She just smiled. "So I suppose telling you that I'm not wearing any knickers wouldn't help then?"

Harry had to grip the table to keep calm, his eyes widened as the mental image almost threw him over the edge. She really was trying to kill him. That was it. Screw Voldemort. This was how Harry Potter would die. At the hands of Hermione Granger. And completely happy.

Because Harry _was_ happy. He'd never felt this strange sensation before, and he was desperate to hold onto it; hold onto _her_. He never wanted this to end. How could they possibly just move on from all of this?

"Swap time," Hermione declared.

Harry shook his head, drawing his plate closer to himself. "No. I refuse."

Hermione glared at him. "Harry."

"Hermione."

"You pass me that crème brûlée right now."

"No," he said again, sounding petulant. "You've been very mean to me. You don't get swap time."

She pouted. "But I want swap time."

"And I want not to have a burning erection right now, but we don't always get what we want, now do we?"

"There are other ways to retaliate, you know," she said, winking at him. "But denying me crème brûlée is just bad form, Mr Potter."

"Fine," he huffed, passing her his dessert. "You can keep your stupid mousse. I'm going to the bathroom." He buttoned his jacket before he stood up.

She just giggled, and he glared at her. He said nothing more as he stopped a waiter to get directions to the bathroom. Hermione watched him go for a moment, feeling rather pleased with herself. She would make it up to him later.

His crème brûlée was divine. How had he eaten so little of it? She was just putting another spoonful into her mouth when she felt a rush of cold air on her legs.

And then a hand.

Her eyes widened. The bastard Disillusioned himself. She felt his hands run up her legs, up her thighs and under her dress. She tried to push him away but he wasn't having any of it.

She was already finding it difficult to keep a straight face but her breathing increased when she felt him place kisses on her inner thighs, his hands spreading her legs to give him access to his prize.

She braced herself for the initial contact and yet it still surprised her.

She felt him start with his fingers, touching, caressing her insides with practiced grace. By now, he knew what she liked.

Hermione gripped the table so tightly, her knuckles were turning white. _Focus on your breathing_ , she told herself. But she practically gasped when his tongue joined his fingers.

Several heads turned her way and she managed to smile their curiosity away, even sipping at her wine as her entire face turned red. She desperately wanted to moan.

She could cast a Silencing Charm. Yes, that could work. If only her brain could function enough to locate her wand. Where was it again?

"Oh," Hermione sounded, automatically trying to close her legs.

Harry was relentless, using his elbows to keep her legs spread for him. He vowed to make her reach a climax right here in the restaurant. Thinking she can just torture him and get away with it. He didn't think so.

It didn't take much longer. Hermione's hips bucked once and she pressed her lips together as tightly as she could to stop her moan. She was going to kill him. When she felt Harry remove himself from her personal space, she immediately clamped her legs shut and let out a long sigh. She was still trying to catch her breath.

She felt that cold air again, which told her he wasn't under the table anymore. Which was good, because she strongly considered kicking him where it really mattered. How dare he?

Harry returned a minute later, looking incredibly smug. "How's the dessert?" he asked, once he was seated again.

"Get the bill," she told him coldly. "We're going."

Harry did as he was told, and then they were going. Hermione gave him no time to ask the doorman to hail them a taxi. She dragged him down the street and into a dark alley. He asked no questions as she pulled him sufficiently far into the dark, pushed him up against the wall, gave him a sexy grin and then dropped to her knees right in front of him.

Harry barely had time to protest before she had his belt buckle undone, his trousers down and her mouth just where he wanted it.

Harry's brain shut down.

He would never get over how good it felt to have her go down on him. He would never forget it either, for as long as he lived. He looked down to be sure. Uh huh, that was indeed Hermione Granger. He sometimes didn't believe it.

Before he lost complete sense, he stopped her and pulled her up. A moment later, he had her up against the wall, her legs wrapped around him and they were joined in the most intimate way. When Harry told her to look at him, she did. She had to know that no other position in the world would better the many that allowed her to look in his perfect green eyes.

Green eyes that would forever possess her.

Hermione could barely stand when they were finished. Her feet touched down again but Harry remained leaning on her, holding her up. In just this moment, she was sure that she could spend the rest of her life making love to this boy.

When Harry stood up straight, he was smiling wistfully. He looked a mess. Had her hands really done that to his hair? Was that a scratch on his cheek? Harry pulled up his trousers. "One of these days, you really are going to end up killing me."

"I don't think I can walk," she concluded, still leaning against the wall behind her.

"Why is it that you never cease to surprise me?"

She grinned. "If my parents ever knew the things we did, they'd die right on the spot, I'm telling you."

Harry's eyes widened. "Do you think _my_ parents know?"

Hermione stood up straight, lifting herself up off the wall. She straightened out her dress and touched her wand to cast spells to clean them both up. Her poor knees. "I'm pretty sure the Marauders would be proud, babe."

"What about my mother?"

"As long as you're treating me right, and are remaining respectful; I'm sure she'd want you to enjoy your life."

He shook his head, not buying it. "We are never having a girl," he said easily, not really thinking it through.

Hermione just stared at him, her mouth hanging open. "What?"

"I mean me," he rushed, panicking. " _I'm_ never having a girl. I could never handle a daughter, knowing what I know about being a boy. I'd never let her out of the house."

Hermione didn't know what to say to him at this point. Sure, it might have been a slip of the tongue, but every slip was grained in some form of truth, wasn't it? "We should go," she said.

Harry just nodded, stepping back and allowing her to lead the way, his mind reeling. Why had he said that? What an idiot!

Hermione didn't say anything for quite some time, as she strolled down the bustling streets. She was astutely aware of the fact that Harry remained a constant half step behind her. She wondered what he was thinking.

At some point, Hermione stopped walking and turned to look at him. He looked quite stricken, and she had to smile at him. She held out her hand which he happily took and they proceeded to walk side by side, fingers entwined.

Hermione always marvelled at how perfectly their hands fit together. If that wasn't a sign of some sort, she didn't know what was.

They walked for quite some time, working off their dinner and just enjoying each other's company. They never really had the opportunity to do this kind of thing: act like a couple, even though they weren't even actually a couple.

Without having to exchange words, they decided it was time to head back to their hotel. Harry hailed a taxi, and they rode it in silence, fingers still interlocked. They rode the elevator in that same silence, still holding hands.

No words were necessary.

They made love in a way they never had before. They weren't rushed or impatient. No. They were calm, as if they both knew that they had the rest of their lives to be doing this. Nobody could take it away from them in this moment.

It was slow, deep and meaningful. It held with it so much promise of a future of the same kind of love. It was different in that neither of them needed to say a word. Just sounds. Just looks, touches and sighs.

But what really made it different was that Harry didn't have to tell Hermione to look at him.

She already was.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Harry and Hermione's Sunday was equally lazy, if not more. Hermione allowed him to sleep in even later than the day before, but she woke him up exactly the same way, determined to use all of this alone-time to their advantage.

The two of them didn't leave the room until the late afternoon to have a picnic in a local park. It was all so domestic, all so perfect, that Harry didn't know how they would go back to hiding behind closed doors once they got back to London.

Not when he realised that he loved this girl. He absolutely adored her.

"I don't want to go back," Hermione declared, lying down on the blanket they'd set out, her head pillowed by Harry's abdomen. It was as if she was reading his thoughts.

Harry's own head was propped up by his jacket and her cardigan. From his position, he could see her clearly. And he loved what he saw.

"We should just stay here forever," she concluded.

"In this very position?"

"Yes."

He laughed, which made her laugh, given that her head was on his solar plexus. "We both know that Luna is expecting you at eight o'clock tonight," he reminded her.

"I know," she said, letting out a long sigh.

"Oh, I know what it is," he said, finding that he couldn't hold back his smile. "You just don't want to spend the night without me, do you?"

Hermione sat up so she could look at him. "This will be the first night that we spend apart since we started this whole thing," she explained. "I don't think I'm ready for it."

"You say the word, I'll Disillusion myself and sneak into your girls' night just so you don't have to sleep without me."

"You'd do that?"

"Maybe the Cloak would be safer though," he said, sounding serious about his plan. "Less chance of getting caught. You know how Luna has that third eye or whatever."

Hermione had to kiss him. She kept it quick because they were in public. There was no need to scar poor unsuspecting people with their wanton ways. "Are you really going to spend the night in the hotel?" she asked.

He nodded. "We have it for one more night, I may as well. And plus, I could actually get some work done, seeing as you won't be around to tempt me with your sexy body and perfect mouth."

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm such a distraction, huh?"

"The best kind."

She kissed him again. "Good answer."

"I'm a smart boy."

"I've taught you well." Hermione gave him one last kiss before she lay down again.

Harry didn't say anything as they both settled down once again. He quite loved silences with Hermione. They were comfortable, calming, even _desired_. Harry could spend his days like this. He could spend a lifetime like this. With her.

Always with her.

Harry listened to her breathing change, and he peeked a look at her face to see that she was, indeed, asleep. Perhaps she was getting in the sleep now, with him around, before she had to spend the night without him.

Really, Harry wondered if he'd be able to sleep at all. It wasn't just his body that needed her. His mind needed her as well.

Harry was always anxious whenever he wasn't with her, which was why he usually went on a run whenever she was away. Hermione once mentioned to him that he appeared restless but that wasn't really the case. He just missed her. Constantly.

He would never survive the end of this. It would crush him. No woman would ever compare to her. Now that he knew what it was like to be with her this way - every way - why would he ever want anyone else?

Harry let her sleep for quite a while, and she was especially adorable when he was waking her up. She sat up slowly, stretched and settled her eyes on him.

"You're too good to me, Harry Potter," she said sleepily, and his desire roared to life at the tone of her voice. Hermione noticed and she gave him one of those sexy grins that she gave him when she was about to do something naughty.

"Oh, yes please," he whispered.

She laughed. "Come on, let's get back to the hotel. I haven't even packed."

Harry didn't move as she began to gather their things. She made quick work of everything and then she was putting on her shoes.

"Harry," she said, looking at him pointedly.

"I thought we were staying here forever," he said innocently.

"We could, but then I can't exactly do what I want to do to you out here in the open, now can I?"

Harry was up and on his feet so quickly that Hermione had to laugh. "What are you waiting for?" he asked. "Let's go."

Hermione found it all so amusing, really, and she loved the way he played the part for her. He was always eager, always present, always paying attention. Those types of boys were difficult to find. Harry Potter was truly one of a kind.

Hermione left him at ten to eight later that night, dropping her time away from him to as little as possible. Harry was still lying in bed when she gathered her things into her bag, shrunk it and put it in her pocket.

She kissed him long and hard before she left, telling him that she would see him later.

"Later," he whispered.

And then she was gone.

Harry suddenly felt empty without her around. He fell back on the bed and groaned. He needed the next day to arrive already.

Needless to say, Harry didn't get much work done. He just stayed right where he was, his mind thinking about Hermione Granger and what she meant to him.

She was the girl he loved. The woman.

He loved her.

He was in love with her.

He wanted to spend the rest of his life existing just in her presence. Just being with her. Looking at her, talking to her, touching her, holding her, making love to her, loving her. How could he ever tell her?

Harry fell asleep to the memories of Hermione's hands on his body.

And he woke up to the real thing.

Hermione was nestled in his arms, snuggled up against his bare chest. She was asleep, but her hands were on him. Harry felt content, happier than he'd ever felt in all his life. She was here, with him, and he didn't dare move.

Hermione stirred fifteen minutes later to find Harry with his eyes open, a stupid smile on his face.

"Don't you say anything, Harry Potter," Hermione warned as she sat up so she could look at him. "I couldn't do it," she admitted. "I tossed and I turned and I growled and I just couldn't. I mean, it didn't help that it wasn't even my own bed I was sleeping in." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "You've spoilt me, Harry. How will I ever survive St Andrew's without you?"

"I'm a wizard, Hermione," he said, as if it were the answer to everything. And, just the fact that she was talking about them still doing this thing even when she was at St Andrew's was making him feel giddy. "What time did you get here?"

"Just after two," she admitted. "Gin and Luna were already asleep. Do you reckon I'll be able to sneak back in without them noticing?"

"What's the time now?"

Hermione checked the nightstand. "A little after nine. They could still be asleep."

"And if they're not? What excuse would you give?"

"Well, I kind of already told them about you without mentioning your name," she admitted, blushing slightly.

His eyes widened. "Exactly what did you tell them?"

"That there is this boy who makes me very happy," she informed him. "And he has an incredibly fine posterior."

"I do, don't I?"

"It's one of my favourite parts of your body."

He raised an eyebrow. "One of, huh? What else are you a fan of?"

Hermione used her right hand to run her fingers over his abdominal muscles. "I love these." She trailed her fingers up to his mouth. "I love your lips." Her fingers moved upwards. "I will never get over how perfect your eyes are." Her hand moved to his hair. "Do I even have to tell you how much I love your hair?"

He was smiling like a fool.

"What parts of my body do you love?" Hermione asked him.

Harry sat up. "I love your hands," he said seriously; "which includes your fingers. They're just perfect."

Hermione looked at her own hands, studying them.

"They fascinate me," Harry elaborated. "And your legs. Hermione, you have legs to die for. I could just stare at them all day, because they just seem to go on and on."

She was blushing. "See? And you wonder why I keep you around."

Harry kissed the top of her head before he got out of bed. "I'm going to shower. I've got to get packed and checked out before eleven."

"I should go, shouldn't I?"

"Unless you want to join me," he offered suggestively.

"Tempting," she said, climbing off the bed as well. "I should go. I'll see you at home."

"Later."

She blew him a kiss, and then she was gone.

Harry was hit by that empty feeling again, which made him feel a bit glum. He headed into the bathroom and went about his business. He checked out of the hotel as soon as he was ready, and then Apparated to the apartment.

Nobody was home.

Ron was probably at the joke shop and Harry didn't have to think where Hermione was.

Harry used the day to write letters and make calls. He had so much to do before the big foundation fundraiser he had planned for the end of August.

Harry wanted to attend the event with Hermione on his arm. He wanted them to go as a real couple. Just how was he supposed to approach that conversation, he had no idea. Especially when she made it very clear that relationships weren't her thing right now. And she seemed to think that they weren't his either.

How egotistical would he have to be to think that _he_ would be the one to change her mind?

It was just before six when Ron returned to the apartment, looking quite worn out. He did, however, look really happy to see his friend.

"How was your weekend?" Ron asked, flopping down onto the couch beside Harry. "Did you manage to get a lot of work done?"

"It was great," Harry answered truthfully. Then: "Sort of."

"You got lucky, didn't you?"

Harry grinned. "Repeatedly."

Ron laughed. "Was it serious lady, or someone new?"

"Serious lady?"

"You know, the one you actually had in _your_ bed, which you never do," Ron reminded him.

"Oh, right, umm, yeah, that one," he said, deciding to be truthful in that regard at least.

"That's like a month now, isn't it?"

It felt like they'd been living this life their whole lives. "A bit more, but yeah."

"A fling?"

"Lots of benefits."

"But you want more?"

Harry wasn't about to be _that_ truthful. "We're having fun. No point in messing with a good thing, right?"

"I suppose," Ron agreed. "You do look fucking happy. It's disgusting."

Harry laughed at that. He did feel disgustingly happy. "How was your weekend?"

"Fine. We did some stock-taking at the shop, which was not fun, but Luna and I visited this club in Cambridge. It was totally whack, but kind of amazing at the same time. Maybe you should check it out. And then, last night, I was sent away while my sister, best friend and girlfriend bitched about boys."

"Did you catch anything useful?"

"Just that Hermione's seeing this guy that she doesn't want anyone to know about," he said thoughtfully. "You know, the last time she was this secretive about a guy, she ended up going with Krum to the Yule Ball... You don't think she's dating Krum?"

Harry swallowed. "I don't think she's dating Krum."

"Out of everyone, _you_ would be the one to know, wouldn't you?"

He blinked. "What?"

"The two of you have that kind of relationship," he replied easily. "You've always been able to talk to each other in a way I've never understood. I mean, you're Harry and Hermione. If Hermione's seeing some guy, you'd be the first person she would tell."

"Well, she hasn't told me," Harry said. Which wasn't exactly a lie, was it? He hadn't exactly been _told_.

"She's family, Harry," Ron said seriously. "We have to look out for her."

"Don't worry," Harry tried to assure him. "Hermione is smart enough to make good choices."

"She dated Krum."

Harry laughed. "He wasn't terrible. You're just sour about it because you didn't get your chance with her."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Harry smirked. "Don't think I didn't see what was going on," he said. "And that kiss during the Final Battle?"

"We tried and we failed," Ron said, sounding a bit nostalgic. "It kind of all built up to that one moment, you know. And it was fantastic at the time, but then everything afterwards was always going to be a disappointment, wasn't it? I'm certain that I wouldn't have proved enough for her."

Harry didn't even know how they ended up talking about this.

"It's better we ended when we did. It's giving us the chance to be happy with the people we're supposed to be with."

Harry read something profound in his tone of voice. "Do you think Luna is the one for you? The one for forever?"

Ron looked at Harry for a moment. "Yeah, mate, I do. I can't imagine life without her. I don't even want to." He laughed at himself. "Just don't tell my Mum. She'll start planning the wedding."

"My lips are sealed."

"Don't worry, Harry, you'll find your one for forever one day too," Ron said, putting a hand on Harry's arm.

"What if I already have?"

Ron's eyes snapped towards Harry. "Serious lady?"

Harry nodded once.

"That's a bit quick, isn't it?"

"I can't help it. It's just what I feel, even though we aren't even an official thing."

"So what are you going to do?"

Harry shrugged. "Wait and see what she wants." It was all about her. His Hermione.

Harry was still thinking about his conversation with Ron when he retired to his bedroom, feigning fatigue. Okay, he didn't actually have to fake it. After the events of this weekend, he _was_ exhausted.

He quickly got ready for bed and climbed under the covers, his mind moving a mile a minute. He was thinking a lot of things all at once and it took Hermione's arrival to calm him down.

"Sorry I'm so late," she said, coming to sit on the edge of his bed. "I went to visit my parents."

He smiled at her. "Why are you apologising for that?"

She blushed. "I don't know. I just thought, maybe you missed me."

"I did. I always miss you," he informed her. "But your parents must miss you too and I get to see you all the time. Don't ever apologise for visiting them, okay?"

She nodded. "I know. That was stupid."

He reached for her hand. "Are you coming to bed?"

She took a deep breath. "I've got a few things to do in my bedroom and then I'll be right in there beside you."

"Okay."

She stood up. "Keep my spot warm." She walked out of his door to an empty apartment. Harry didn't blame Ron for not staying. If Ron felt even half of what Harry felt for Hermione; he would have already moved out by now.

Twenty minutes later, Hermione was back, dressed in pyjama shorts and one of his Quidditch shirts. She had a book with her, which she brought into bed with them.

Harry said nothing as he wrapped her up in his arms and watched her read. He nuzzled her neck, placed a kiss on her shoulder, and then he fell asleep.

It was the first night they went to sleep together without having sex at least once in the day.

Suddenly - or not so suddenly - it wasn't just about the sex anymore. It was about so much more.

Not that it ever really was about the sex. At least, not to Harry. If he really allowed himself to think about it; he would have to admit to himself that he brought her home with him that first night because he didn't want anyone else to be with her but him.

After everything that he and Ron had talked about, Harry wanted to be with her in _every_ way. He wanted the best of both worlds - with her.

Always with her.

Before he'd even been with her, he wanted her for himself. And now he doubted he would ever stop wanting her.

For forever.

* * *

This time, the shift in their arrangement was immense. Subconsciously, they moved into a stage of their relationship where they were so comfortable in their existence that having Ron around was actually an irritation. It was as if they were harbouring a guest in their home, who always arrived unannounced and just couldn't take a hint.

Harry was finding it really difficult not to be annoyed. He wanted his time with Hermione. He wanted to be able to cuddle with her on their couch, without worrying about someone Apparating in and catching them.

Harry's latent desire to exist as normal with her was only increasing their risk of getting caught by Ron. It was easy to exist in the Muggle world, because they were just any other young couple. But, if Ron ever found out; all the lies they'd been spewing to him, _and each other_ , would be revealed.

Harry, however, could sense an end coming. It was foreboding, and he was wary of it. Soon, she would be going to St Andrew's, and he would be throwing himself into his work with the foundation. They wouldn't be able to keep doing this the way that they were, spending hours of their days in bed, so wrapped up in each other that the rest of the world didn't even exist.

That's how it happened.

Harry's work with the foundation kept him out of the apartment for parts of the day, which was time that Hermione used to start preparing for her upcoming year at University. She was caught between being excited about it and apprehensive about leaving. With her gone for days at a time, would Harry return to his old ways?

Could she give him a reason not to?

Harry would leave the apartment, and then he would come back, and Hermione would welcome him home. It was Harry's favourite part of the day: being able to come home to her. Whenever she heard him arrive, she'd go to the entrance hall and, just for a moment, they could be that normal couple, sharing a welcome-home kiss and telling each other about their days.

They even took to cooking dinner together. Well, Harry cooked and Hermione just sat on the counter and watched him, occasionally earning herself the chance to be kissed senseless.

When Harry sent out the invitations to the foundation's very first fundraiser – a coming out party of sorts – the entire Wizarding Britain was abuzz with excitement, as was the norm whenever the Boy-Who-Lived was involved.

"The Marauders Foundation, huh?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow at him. They were in his bed, barely covered by his sheets. It was late at night and she was lying on him, her naked front resting on his.

"I think it's catchy," he said, still somewhat breathless from their earlier exertions. "The MF."

"Sounds like a terrorist group," she told him, trailing kisses along his chest.

"I think you forget, Hermione, that the Marauders were, in fact, terrorists," he said, laughing lightly. He could barely focus on speaking when she was moving on him like that. Those eyes. Those perfect hands.

"So, this fundraiser," she said, her mouth moving upwards, her tongue darting out to taste him. "It's a ball, huh?"

Harry's heart started to race as she practically climbed up his body. "It is," he breathed.

"And what exactly do people do at balls?" she asked, her kisses at his neck, moving towards his jaw.

"Dance."

Hermione placed kisses all over his face, which made him laugh.

"Can you just kiss me already?" he asked, already breathless.

She pulled up so she could see his face. "I'm pretty sure that you're the one who said that we can't always get what we want."

"But I want you," he said.

And then Hermione did something that Harry would never forget. It practically sealed all his feelings for her and then some. She gave him that sexy grin that she usually gave when she was about to do something naughty.

Harry almost told her that he loved her right then and there.

Hermione gently pecked his lips and then made her way downwards, disappearing under the sheets and proceeding to make him the happiest boy on the face of earth. Harry didn't know how they could possibly go back to being friends after this. Really, there had to be a universal rule that said that best friends probably shouldn't be allowed to go down on each other. Harry wouldn't ever be able to look at her the same way.

He didn't ever want to.

He was definitely in love with her.

When Hermione came back up, she was looking quite smug, which was a look that Harry had never seen before. "How'd you like _that_ kiss?" she asked, rolling off of him and onto his right side. She moved to lie on her stomach and gave him the look that now owned him. Consumed him.

Harry rolled onto his side so he could look at her. "I don't think that there's a day that you won't surprise me," he said, still breathless. Really, he didn't think he would ever be able to catch his breath while in her presence.

Hermione just smiled at him before she closed her eyes and proceeded to fall asleep.

Harry just watched her for a while, having to remind himself that this really was Hermione. His Hermione Granger. He couldn't quite imagine that this whole thing started just under two months ago. How had he not _seen_ her this way before?

"Hermione?" he whispered. When she didn't stir, he smiled slightly. _This_ , she didn't need to hear quite yet. "I love you," he said softly. "I love you, and I want to be with you properly, for forever. Do you want that? Would you want that? Would you want me?"

Hermione didn't move.

Harry let out a breath. "When did everything get so complicated?" he asked nobody in particular. Then, sighing once more, he rolled back onto his back and fell asleep.

Hermione woke up to an empty bed. It wasn't unlike Harry to wake up first, but he usually left some sort of way for her to immediately know where he was. She quickly got out of bed, threw on one of his shirts and left his bedroom. She found him in the kitchen, dressed only in his boxers and an apron that said 'Kiss The Chef.' She stood in the doorway and watched him for a moment, taking in all that epitomised Harry Potter.

With him, she definitely wouldn't live a boring life. That was fact.

"Hey you," she said, unable to resist.

He didn't even startle. Instead, he turned towards her, smiling like a school kid, with an egg-lifter held in his right hand. "Morning," he said happily. "I'm making pancakes."

"I can see that," she said, unable to stop herself from returning his smile. "It smells good."

"It tastes even better," he assured her. "Come here and have a taste."

Just from the way that he spoke, Hermione just knew that he had something else on his mind. She was proved correct when she approached him. He practically threw the egg-lifter into the sink before he had her in his arms, his lips finding hers with ease.

"If you missed me so much," she mumbled against his lips; "you could have just woken me."

"That wouldn't have been very gentlemanly of me, would it?"

"Not that it's ever stopped you before," she let him know, laughing lightly as her arms enclosed around his bare shoulders.

Harry didn't even offer her an explanation as he kissed her again, the tenderness of the kiss quickly changing to something short of desperation. In all his life, Harry had never felt anything like _this_. Only Hermione Granger could make him feel so lost and so deeply grounded at the same time. It amazed him.

And the way he kissed her practically explained it to her, without him having to use words. Just his lips, tongue and his hands.

"Now," Hermione panted, her own hands reaching for the waistband of his boxers. "Now!" she demanded.

Harry was all too willing to oblige, lifting her up onto the counter and standing between her legs.

"Now," she said again. "Please, Harry."

"Okay," Harry breathed, starting to lift up the shirt she was wearing.

And then they heard it. It was a throat clearing, and then someone speaking.

"No. Not okay."

Harry and Hermione sprang apart, Harry turning sharply, making sure that he kept Hermione shielded behind him. He didn't have his wand but he was willing to protect her any way he could. Though, he needn't worry about an attack from the intruder.

Who, incidentally, wasn't an _intruder_ at all.

"So," Ron said , eyeing the both of them. "You two want to tell me what's going on here?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Ron had Harry and Hermione sit down on the couch as he paced in front of them, trying to come to terms with what he'd just witnessed. He'd blatantly refused to allow either of them to get dressed, so there Harry sat in his boxers and apron, with Hermione in only one of Harry's t-shirts. She was clutching a throw pillow against her chest, her eyes trained intently on the floor in front of her.

Ron was muttering to himself. He'd shepherded his two best friends into the living room and told them to shut up, even as they tried to explain. He wasn't having any of it. This was definitely not what he expected to be coming home to. He was convinced that that _image_ would forever be engrained in his brain. Perhaps he'd have to ask Luna to _Obliviate_ him of it all at some point.

Eventually, Ron stopped pacing and turned his attention to the couch. "Firstly," he began; "how long has this been going on?"

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about," Ron growled at Harry. "The two of you were about to shag on the kitchen counter. We can't just pretend that that wasn't about to happen."

Harry glared at Ron. "I was making breakfast," he said through gritted teeth.

"Is that what the kids are calling it now?" he asked sarcastically.

"Ron," Hermione sounded, and the redhead rounded on her.

"No," Ron hissed. "I want to know how long. Tell me now."

Harry looked at Hermione who was already looking at him. In that one exchange, they knew they were caught. Ron wouldn't let it go.

It was Harry who responded. "Almost two months," he admitted.

Ron's eyes widened as everything came together in his mind. He stared at Harry, realising that Hermione was 'Serious Lady.' Merlin, he'd walked in on them having sex. Merlin, Harry wanted a forever with _Hermione_ , and the witch didn't even know.

"Two months?" Ron asked incredulously, still trying to wrap his head around everything. "The two of you have been dating for two months and you didn't tell me?"

"We're not dating," Hermione clarified, and Harry just grimaced, knowing full well that that was the wrong thing to say to Ron right now.

Ron turned to look at her. "You're not dating? What do you call this then?"

She looked up at him. "Honestly, I don't know why you're so angry," she said calmly.

"Why I'm so angry," he huffed, starting to pace again. "How would you like it if your two best friends dated for two months without telling you?"

"We're not dating," she repeated.

Ron frowned. "What the hell does that even mean? You're not dating?"

"We're not," Hermione agreed. "We're just, uh," she paused, looking at Harry for some help but he wasn't offering anything. He wasn't even looking at her.

Harry could feel it. This was it it. This was the end that he was so afraid of, and it was happening right here in their living room, with their best friend standing over them like he was reprimanding naughty children. Harry wasn't even fully clothed for this.

"We're just friends," Hermione finally said; "who happen to sleep together from time to time." Liar.

Ron just stared at them for a moment, somewhat disbelieving. And then he burst out laughing, surprising both occupants on the couch. "You're not serious?"

"Ron?"

Ron looked at Harry. "Bloody hell, you _are_ serious." He shook his head. "What the hell did you think would happen? Seriously? You're Harry and Hermione. You can't do friends with benefits."

"We've been doing it for two months," Hermione said.

Ron raised a finger. "Don't remind me how long the two of you have been lying to me." He took a deep breath. "What did you expect to happen?" he asked both of them. "Hermione, you're going to St Andrew's in two weeks and Harry, you're working on your Foundation. How long did you think you could keep this up?"

Neither Harry nor Hermione said a word.

"Are you really going to sit there and say nothing?"

"You told us to keep quiet," Harry pointed out.

"Sure, listen to me now," Ron muttered. "Is this how it's going to be? The two of you are just going to keep doing this, huh? Just friends, who occasionally sleep together, huh?" He looked at Hermione. "Is that it, Hermione?"

She looked up at him. "What do you want me to say, Ron? What Harry and I do isn't your business."

"It is now," Ron shot back. "You're my best friends. I think I deserved to know that the two of you changed your relationship."

"Nothing changed," Hermione forced out.

"You're right," Ron said, looking between them. "You just kept up your normal relationship, and added sex to it. Excuse me for thinking that made the two of you a real couple."

"Ron," Harry hissed. "Shut up."

"No, Harry," Ron said. "You two should have known that you couldn't just do this! You were too involved even before the sex, and now everything is just complicated."

"You're the one who's insisting on complicating things," Harry said pointedly.

"I'm trying to clarify things," Ron said, raising his arms and then dropping them. "Can the two of you really tell me that, if and when this ended, you would have been able to go back to the way things were? Honestly?"

Harry knew that Ron knew he wouldn't have been able to do that. This line of questioning was going to force someone's hand and Harry desperately wished that he had his wand so he could hex Ron into oblivion.

"Make a decision," Ron declared. "End it now, or just become a proper couple. The two of you won't survive any more of this if you keep going the way that you are and you both know I'm right."

Hermione stood up quite suddenly, Harry's shirt reaching about mid-thigh. "Ron, as much as I appreciate how much you seem to care about Harry and me and whatever we've got going on; it _is_ between Harry and me. It's been that way for two months and it's going to stay that way. When we end this, it'll be our decision, and that'll be that."

She then looked at Harry, her eyes softening. In that one look, Harry knew that it was all over.

A moment later, Hermione left the room. There was deafening silence as each boy played out what had happened. Neither of them liked where the conversation seemed to have ended.

Harry stood up, his glare focused on Ron. "You don't know what you've done," he said coldly.

"I'm doing it for your own good, Harry."

Harry shook his head. "You don't even know what you're talking about. My own good? Fuck, Ron. Hermione is the best thing that's ever happened to me, and now this is all just going to ruin it."

"It doesn't have to."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You don't know what you've done," he repeated. Then, without a word more, he left the living room and went in search of Hermione. He found her in her bedroom, curled up on her bed. She was still in his shirt, but she had slipped on a pair of tracksuit pants.

Harry closed the door behind him and moved towards her, sitting down on the edge of her bed. "Well, that was quite the morning," he said, trying to inject humour into the situation and failing miserably.

Hermione looked at him with hooded eyes. "What if Ron's right, Harry?"

"About what?" he asked cautiously.

"Us."

He took a deep breath. "What about us?"

"Why did we ever think that we could do this? It was always going to make things complicated after it ended. I mean, we both knew that, and yet we've kept this thing going for this long."

"Hermione," he breathed, that foreboding feeling creeping up on him. This was the end, he just knew it.

"Harry, I think I want to start dating again." She said the words slowly, watching his face for a sign of what his true feelings were on the subject. When he didn't react, she said the words that tore straight through both of them. "I think we should stop this."

Harry focused all of his brainpower on remaining expressionless. He was determined to give nothing away.

Hermione wished he would say something. She wanted him to say that it wasn't what he wanted, that he wanted to be with her; _really_ be with her.

"Is this really what you want?" he eventually asked, hoping she would say no. He needed her to give him even the slightest sign that her words were betraying her true feelings. He wouldn't risk his own, in fear of making this even more difficult for the both of them.

Hermione waited a beat before she nodded once, unable to meet his eyes. It was what he wanted, she was sure of it. She had to give him an out, now, before things got out of hand. The possessiveness she already felt would only get worse the longer this went on.

Harry felt his heart drop down to his stomach. "Okay," he said, his voice quivering slightly. "You're probably right."

"I am?"

He swallowed. "We should stop," he said, nodding as well. He felt sick as he stood up. "I should go." He gave her one last look before he started for the door, needing to be out of her presence before the mask that was his face fell and revealed his utter heartbreak.

"Harry?"

He stopped and turned to look at her. "Hmm?"

"Nothing changes, right?" she asked softly. "We're still friends like we've always been, right?"

He took a breath. "Of course, Hermione. Nothing changes."

* * *

Harry lied.

Everything would change. It already did.

Even as he stumbled back to his own bedroom, he knew that nothing would ever be the same. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, trying and failing to keep himself calm. He slid down to the floor and dropped his head back, wondering how their great morning had turned so ugly so quickly.

Fucking Ron.

Harry couldn't even describe what he was feeling but he knew it was painful. Their morning had been perfect. They'd been a pretend couple just this morning and now... Now Harry had no idea what they were. Would they just go back to being friends? Best friends?

Harry didn't think he could do it. He couldn't just go back to the way things were, and he had to tell her. He _had_ to tell her before it was too late. He quickly scrambled to his feet and practically bolted from his room and ran to Hermione's. It had been merely seven minutes since he'd left her alone and, as soon as he opened her door; he just knew something was wrong.

There was an open tog bag perched on the edge of her bed, but she was nowhere in sight.

Harry knew immediately that it was her intention to leave, just from the fact that the framed photograph of the Golden Trio was no longer on her nightstand. He couldn't escape the sinking feeling that, if she were to leave now, she would not be coming back.

There was also a note sitting on her desk, addressed to both boys. She was going to visit her parents.

Harry added the last word himself. _Indefinitely_.

No!

"Hermione," he called out.

A moment later, a visibly emotional Hermione stepped out of her cupboard with her peach top with the snitch buttons in her hands. She looked like she was fighting tears, but she was definitely more confused by his presence than anything.

"Harry?" she croaked; "what are you doing?"

The wizard had to keep himself calm. Truthfully, Harry was still in a bit of shock about what had happened this morning. Everything had been fine, and now everything was just _not_. What was Harry supposed to do now?

But she was still here. That meant something. He wasn't too late. "What are _you_ doing?" he asked, his eyes drifting to the bag on her bed.

"Oh," she sounded, dropping her gaze. "I, umm, I'm going to visit my parents for a little while," she explained cautiously.

"Why?"

She frowned. "Why what?"

"Why are you going to visit them? Why _now_?"

There were answers Hermione could give about missing them, and that she wanted to spend time with them before she went to St Andrew's but those would be lies, and she liked to think that she'd lied to him enough for one day.

"Why, Hermione?" he asked again, stepping towards her.

"I need some time," she confessed. "I'm not - I just, well - " she stopped, sighing. Tiredly, she moved to sit down on the edge of her bed, trying to calm her racing thoughts. This was not the way things were supposed to go.

She _loved_ him, so why couldn't she just tell him that the person she wanted to _date_ was him?

Slowly, Hermione lay down against her pillows, trying to reel in her wayward emotions. She couldn't forget that Harry was still in the room, and he was seeing all of this.

Her bed smelt more like Harry than it did her, which was strange. Hermione was only too happy to breathe him in - that mown grass smell that she still couldn't quite place. There was no escaping him now, and she couldn't help allowing herself to indulge in the memories of her time with Harry. How had things gone so terribly wrong? They'd been fine. They'd been _happy_.

And, really, Hermione wished that she'd known that the last time they'd had sex was going to be their last. She definitely would have paid closer attention. If she'd known how their day would turn out, she probably would have just stayed in bed.

"Hermione," Harry said; "answer the question."

Her eyes snapped towards him. "Why do you care so much anyway?" she asked pointedly.

"Wow," he breathed. "You really have no clue, do you?"

She frowned.

"Tell me, Hermione, at any point when you decided you wanted to start dating again; did you ever consider dating _me_?" he asked, needing her to know.

Hermione just stared at him.

"Were you already so convinced that whoever you decided to date next _wasn't_ going to be me?" he asked, the question sounding like it came from another, much longer list of things he was desperate to know. "This entire time, you've never once considered anything _more_ with me, have you? And I guess that's my own fault, right? I'm the one who gave off the impression that I didn't want to date at all, let alone you, right?

"I'll have you know that you were right after all, Hermione," he said, his voice suddenly dropping in volume. "One of these days, a girl was going to steal my heart. So imagine my dismay when you couldn't even entertain the idea that that girl could be you."

Hermione just stared at him, her mouth hanging open in surprise. Wait. What did he just say?

"Because it is," he continued. " _You_ are." He stepped forward. "I get that this was all supposed to be some fun arrangement, but it never was, was it? From the moment we decided on _more_ ; we were as good as done for. At least, I know I was. I don't want to date other people. Merlin, I don't even want to date if it means that I don't get to be with you in some capacity. So, if dating is what you want; then I'm asking you now, Hermione Granger, would you please go out on a date with me?"

Despite the shocked look on Hermione's face; she couldn't really say she was all that surprised. Perhaps this was all a little delayed, but of course Harry felt what she felt.

"Hermione?" he croaked, needing an answer.

She didn't use words. Instead, she flung herself at him, burying her face in the crook of his neck and squeezing him tight. "We can go on a date right now, if you want," she said against his skin, tickling him.

Harry laughed, enclosing her in his arms. "I wouldn't say that I'm exactly dressed for a date," he said, referring to his boxers and apron.

"Well, I reckon you're dressed exactly right for the date I had in mind."

Harry shivered. As tempting as it was, he shook his head. "No, we're going to go on a real date first," he said sternly. "Tonight. Just you and me, and I'm going to compliment you every chance I can, and we'll make small talk and try to get to know each other better."

Hermione pulled back enough to meet his gaze. "Harry, you do realise that I know next to everything there is to know about you, right?"

"Not everything," he said, smirking, and she was forced to catch her breath.

"Okay then," she agreed. "Tonight. At seven?"

He nodded, and Hermione moved to hug him again, resting her ear over his heart. They stood perfectly still for a good minute, before Hermione broke the silence.

"As right as he was, this whole mess really is all Ron's fault," she mumbled against his chest.

Harry couldn't help his grin. "Is it?"

She pulled back to look at him properly. "Well, he's the reason I haven't had my waffles or my Harry this morning, so yes, he's to blame."

Harry chuckled. "Do you reckon he's all chuffed with himself, thinking that his little intervention has actually, well, made us admit that we're in an actual relationship? Which we are, right? Or we will be, tonight?"

"Tonight," she agreed, reaching up to kiss his cheek.

"Merlin, he probably can't wait to say 'I told you so,'" Harry said, sighing.

Hermione huffed. "He's probably got that smug look on his face that he gets," she said, sounding annoyed. "I mean, this thing almost went the other way," she said carefully, shuddering at the thought of a life without Harry. This was the boy she wanted to be with, in every way. Even in public.

Harry suddenly smirked mischievously, an idea coming to mind.

"What?" she asked cautiously, wary of what she would term a Marauder's look in his eye.

"I don't want to give him the satisfaction of being right just yet," Harry said conspiratorially. "How'd you like to honour the terrorists?"

Hermione waited a beat before she nodded. "Tell me, oh ye young Marauder, what sneaky things did you have in mind?"

* * *

Once Hermione left the apartment, Harry decided that he needed to find something to do, so he went back to his room, got dressed and then went to the kitchen. It was still a mess from earlier, seeing as they'd been interrupted while making breakfast.

Harry, admittedly, was no longer hungry.

So he started to clean up, and it wasn't long before the clatter in the kitchen drew attention. Ron came bounding in, a large grin on his face, but stopped dead when he spotted Harry and the scowl on the raven-haired wizard's face.

"What's up with you?" Ron asked. "Where's Hermione?"

Harry schooled his features and glared at him, but said nothing.

"Harry," Ron pressed. "Where's Hermione?"

"She's gone," he said simply, his voice low and controlled.

"What do you mean she's gone?"

Harry looked up, his stare cold and unnerving. "I mean exactly what I said. She's gone, to stay with her parents."

"But why?"

"Why do you think?"

Ron blinked in surprise. "What do you mean? Why's she gone?"

"Why the hell do you think she's gone?" he snapped. "You just _had_ to butt in, didn't you? You had to force us into defining it, and you wonder why we didn't tell you about it. I knew this would happen. I _knew_."

"Harry?" he asked quietly.

"She ended it, Ron," he finally said, enjoying the shocked look on his friend's face a little too much. "She wants to start dating again, and now it's over, so thank you."

Ron frowned. "But...?" He shook his head. "Did you tell her?"

"Tell her what?"

"Did you tell her than you're in love with her?"

Harry just narrowed his eyes, choosing not to answer. "Do you mind just leaving?" he said. "I'd really like be alone right now."

"But Harry..."

He cut him off. "Just leave. Go. We both know you want to," he said, heading towards the door of the kitchen. "I don't even know why you bothered coming home today." And then he walked away.

Harry, admittedly, felt a little bad about it but, for a while, that conversation _could_ have been real, and that managed to get Harry's blood boiling. In another world, he and Hermione could have completely missed each other, and their lives weren't to be messed with. Harry harboured some anger towards his friend, but he was sure it would go away soon.

Besides, they had an epic prank to prepare for.

* * *

"What's up with you and Harry?"

Hermione sighed. She had to know that she couldn't avoid the questions anymore. While they were at the Burrow, she and Harry had been anything but friendly with each other, and everyone noticed. It'd been a few days since the penultimate discovery in their kitchen and everything just felt so disjoint.

What didn't help was the fact that she and Harry also seemed less than friendly with Ron as well.

Ginny also sighed. "Or, better yet, what's up with you, Ron _and_ Harry?"

"Nothing."

"Liar."

Hermione gulped at her wine, trying to put off having to explain what was going on. If she could. She didn't even _know_ what was happening between the three of them. She was mad at Ron for butting in where he didn't belong; she was mad at Harry because, well, their little bubble had popped, and she was mad at herself for letting it happen.

"Hermione," Ginny said. "What's going on?"

"I'm sure you have a theory," she said, eyeing her redheaded friend.

"Oh, I have _lots_ of theories," Ginny said, grinning. "But I'm sure that whatever _did_ happen is nothing like my imagination."

"Things happened," she eventually said. "We're in a weird place right now but we'll figure it out. There's no need to worry, okay?"

"I'm not worried," she said truthfully. "I'm just very curious. Something _big_ must have happened, and I'm literally dying to know."

Hermione just shook her head. "You're not going to drop this, are you?"

"And why would I ever do such a thing like that?"

Hermione heaved a sigh.

"Does it have something to do with that guy you're seeing?"

Hermione coughed, realising that she'd just end up telling more lies. "Umm, yeah, I guess you could say that."

Ginny's eyes widened. "Are you trying to tell me that Harry and Ron know who you've been seeing?" she asked excitedly.

"Oh yes," she said, hoping that Ginny would turn her attention to the boys instead. "They found out."

"And they don't approve?"

Hermione sighed. "Something like that."

"So you're mad at them?"

She took a deep breath, contemplating whether she should be having this conversation with Ginny. In the end, she decided that it might help. "They asked me to define it," she admitted.

"Define it?"

"The guy I was seeing; we were just friends with benefits, you see? Neither of us was looking for a proper relationship, so it was perfect."

"And then you were asked to define it... So I assume you spoke to this guy about it?"

"I did, and I decided that I want to start dating again."

Ginny's eyes widened. "Ooh, so we get to meet this guy officially then?"

Hermione dropped her gaze.

"No?"

Hermione didn't respond. This entire thing was complicated enough.

"Those bastards!"

"Huh?"

"Are you trying to tell me that Ron and Harry forced you into a decision, and then you ended up ending it with the guy who actually made you happier than I've ever seen you?"

Hermione wisely did not answer that question. Harry had looked wounded enough when Neville mentioned that she still needed a date for the fundraising ball. "Can we please stop talking about this?" she asked.

"Fine," she said, making it sound like it was paining her to do so. "But this isn't the end of this conversation."

Of that, Hermione was painfully aware.

At that moment, Ron entered the Burrow's kitchen. He missed a step when he spotted Hermione, but still continued on his way to the icebox and retrieved three Butterbeers. Hermione didn't even look at him. Despite her anger, she was terribly embarrassed that he'd caught them in such a compromising position. Without saying a word, Ron left the kitchen once more.

"Wow," Ginny said, letting out a breath. "That was uncomfortable."

If only she knew. Hermione gulped the rest of her wine and stood up. "I should be getting home," she said.

"Which home?" Ginny asked, which was a question that gave Hermione pause.

"I'm staying with my parents," she said. "It's just, well, easier this way. For now, at least."

"But then you go to school, Hermione," Ginny said. "You're going to have to fix this before you leave, you know?"

"I know."

Ginny also stood up. Together, they left the kitchen and headed into the living room, to find Ron, Neville and George having a discussion about Quidditch. Neither girl was surprised by that. Luna was sitting in the corner with Mrs Weasley, talking about something that Hermione wasn't bothered to figure out.

"Where's Harry?" Ginny asked the boys, because Hermione wasn't going to.

"Out back," Neville replied easily.

"Well, Hermione's leaving," Ginny announced.

Both Neville and George bid her goodbye enthusiastically. Ron merely spared her a grunt, which Hermione didn't respond to. Once she was done with her farewells to all those inside, Hermione made her way to the back of the house, intent on saying goodbye to Harry. She had to try to keep things as normal as possible.

Harry was sitting at the table on the back porch, poring over some documents. Hermione knew that they had to talk, and now was as good a time as any. But, the moment she moved towards the door, she heard it. Harry wasn't sitting alone. He was with Hannah Abbott.

And he was laughing.

Hermione moved into the doorway, and he spotted her immediately. A multitude of emotions played out on his face before he gave her a lopsided grin and a poorly-concealed wink. Thankfully, Hannah was looking down at whatever documents she was getting him to sign for the Foundation. As a member of his board, and his potential future lead counsel, she was going to be responsible for all the legalities surrounding the Foundation.

Hermione used her hand to gesture to him that she was leaving, which made him exaggerate a pout. "Later," she mouthed, and his grin was back in full-force, making her weak in the knees. She had to leave now before she marched up to him and dragged him away by the collar.

They'd gone on a date every day since the big reveal. It was odd because nothing had really changed. Their couple status existed solely in the Muggle world for now. They planned a small _coming out_ at the fundraising ball, which was sure to cause quite a stir. Harry wanted the press to find out on his own terms, and Hermione was inclined to agree.

She worried that the news of his new relationship would overshadow the event, but he wasn't worried. Now that he was fully involved in the foundation and the intricacies of getting things done in the Wizarding World; the hidden politician came out to play. He was a natural born leader, with a way with words when he was really trying, so it was rather amazing to see him in action. Hermione suspected that he would have the Heads of all the Noble and Ancient Families eating out of the palm of his hand by the time the evening was over.

Hermione blew him a kiss, and he caught it in the air, before placing it over his heart. Hermione giggled, and then balked at the sound that came out of her mouth.

This boy was going to be the end of her.

And, for the life of her, Hermione Granger couldn't bring herself to care one little bit.


	9. Chapter 9

AN: Sorry it took so long to get this last one out. I went out of town and clearly didn't plan my schedule out well. Hope it doesn't disappoint, and I hope you're all having a good festive season. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 **Chapter Nine**

The days leading up to the fundraising ball were highly stressful for all those involved in the planning. It was being held at a banquet hall in downtown Diagon Alley. Harry had spent quite some time contemplating whether to hold it in magical or Muggle London, but he was forced to concede to magical this time around. They would hold another one for the Muggles at a later date.

It was too much to ask so many wizards to _behave_ in the Muggle world. They would need an entire team of _Obliviators_ by the end of the evening.

Harry was excited, though he couldn't decide _what_ was making him so excited. Of course, yes, he couldn't wait for the Foundation to be properly up and running, but he also couldn't wait for all of Wizarding Britain to know that he belonged to Hermione Granger, never to belong to another. Really, he would never belong to himself ever again, and he wasn't even remotely concerned about it.

Though, he had to admit that he was nervous as well. All eyes were on him. This Foundation was the all-important thing that he decided to do with his life after the War, and he was sure it would be heavily scrutinised. Harry had to do it right.

It didn't help that Hermione was already at St Andrew's. She was undergoing her mandatory faculty orientation, and moving into her dormitory, which left him free to do all that he needed to do. But he missed her. It was so pathetic, really, but he just didn't feel very Harry-like when she wasn't with him. How had he ever survived her year at Hogwarts? How was he supposed to survive her next four - at least - years at St Andrew's? Knowing her, there would be a Masters to follow.

There was no way that she would let him visit her every day. Would she?

Perhaps he could find some way to persuade her. She did claim that he was an extremely _talented_ wizard after all, and Harry was all about living up to Hermione's expectations of him. He rather enjoyed actually _doing_ something; and something worthwhile, because it was clear to all those around them that Hermione was proud of him.

To Harry, it was probably the most important part of what he was doing, though he probably wouldn't ever tell her that.

All Harry wanted to do now was be the best version of himself, _for her_ , and he wasn't sure how she would take to that bit of news if she ever knew. It went beyond the fact that he loved her and it was also definitely so much more than the fact that she once told him that she found his ambition sexy.

This was what his life was, and he was determined to live it the right way. Though, it truly was a different kind of wake-up-call, having her living outside of the apartment again and, really, he couldn't wait for her to come home.

Hermione, admittedly, was experiencing the same feeling. Being at St Andrew's was great; it truly was, but she couldn't help feeling as if she and Harry were experiencing another _change_ in their relationship. It felt like something big, but she wasn't able to put a finger on exactly what it was. Despite the fact that she felt like things were suddenly up in the air when it came to nearly everything; she felt grounded.

It was to do with Harry, she knew. There was something particularly calming about knowing that what they had now was so much more than just benefits. It was real, and it was _everything_.

 _He_ was everything.

Like Harry, Hermione was struggling to get used to being away from him. The first night she spent alone in her room, she'd barely slept. Her bed was just too cold, and the room was just too empty. She'd had half a mind to message him to come and spend the night with her, but she'd remained strong.

Her strength was quickly waning.

Hermione was just leaving the library after a day spent reading up on her upcoming classes, on her way to the mess hall for dinner when she heard it. Someone was screaming something. Desperately. It put her on edge immediately, though she only understood why that was when she could finally make out the word that was being said. It was her name.

"Hermione!"

The witch turned sharply, forcing herself not to draw her wand. How would she even explain that? Her heart rate rose dangerously, but then it calmed when she realised that she knew that voice. Didn't she?

"Oh my God, it _is_ you!" the owner of the voice said, rushing towards her. She was a girl that Hermione took a moment to recognise as one of the twins she'd befriended during her first tour of the campus some weeks ago. "It's me, Sarah Jansen."

Hermione's face broke out in a smile. "Sarah, hi, gosh, I didn't even recognise you without your spiky hair. How are you?"

Sarah ignored Hermione's polite question. "Oh, I'm so happy to see you."

Hermione blinked. "You are?"

"I've been begging to see see someone familiar," she said, grabbing hold of Hermione's arm and starting to walk. "My brother's been so busy with his own orientation, and my roommate is such a bitch already. Urgh. How are you settling in, by the way?"

Hermione, admittedly, was feeling a little overwhelmed. "Umm, well, it has been a little overwhelming," she admitted truthfully. "But, thankfully, I managed to get a single room, which is nice."

"Oh, you are _so_ lucky," she said, groaning. "I'm going to come and hang out in your room all the time."

Hermione hid her panic well. As a notoriously difficult person to make friends with; Hermione conceded that she might need someone like Sarah to latch onto her. Otherwise, she was bound to have a rather friendless university life. It also helped that her boyfriend was accustomed to Muggle life.

Hermione almost laughed. Wow. Harry Potter was her _boyfriend_.

"Have you signed up for any clubs?" Sarah asked.

"Not yet, but I'm definitely interested," she replied. "I haven't really been involved in many extracurriculars before. My school was _very_ focused on Academics."

Sarah regarded her lightly. "You do look quite brainy," she said, sounding amused. "Eric likes brainy."

Hermione's eyes widened at the mention of Sarah's twin brother in that way. He _was_ the boy who'd asked her out. Hermione couldn't even remember what she'd said to him, and she inwardly cringed at the potential awkwardness they might face if she were to see him again.

That dreaded moment came quicker than she anticipated, when Eric met them outside the mess hall. It was awkward at first, which was mainly because Eric didn't seem to recognise Hermione. The witch didn't think that she'd changed all that much in the time since she'd last seen him, but it took Sarah reintroducing her to see him click, and his face broke out into a wide, somewhat dazzling smile.

Hermione suddenly felt uncomfortable.

It also didn't help that Sarah was determined to make the situation as awkward as she possibly could by alluding to the fact that Eric was obviously _still_ interested in Hermione every chance she could. It had the witch blushing like a complete fool, which made her feel even worse. She knew she was going to have to put a stop to it, but she wasn't sure how to bring it up. It would be too suspicious to just drop the fact that she now had a boyfriend into random conversation, surely.

Unfortunately - or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it - Eric gave her the opportunity much earlier than she'd anticipated, by asking her out again when Sarah got up to get herself some dessert.

"Oh, umm - " she stuttered, trying to figure out how best to tell the perfectly nice boy that she definitely wasn't interested.

Eric latched onto her hesitation. "It's just that, well, the last time, you said that you weren't really interested in dating anyone, and I was wondering if now you are. I mean, I know it hasn't been all that long since I last asked, but I'm asking anyway."

Hermione blinked. "Oh." She'd said that? Since when were English boys this forward anyway? "Well, Eric, as flattering as it is, I'm actually with someone right now," she said as clearly as she could.

He looked a bit shocked for a moment, but then he schooled his features. "Oh," he sounded, dropping his gaze for a moment. "Does he go here as well?"

Hermione suspected that Eric and Sarah would eventually meet Harry, so she decided that maybe it was best to remain completely truthful. "No, he doesn't," she said. "Harry lives and works in London."

"So he's already gone to school then?" he asked. "He's a lot older than you?"

Hermione could hear something in his tone, but she wasn't sure _what_ it was quite yet. "He's actually a few months younger than me," she confessed.

"And he's already working? As what?"

Hermione steeled herself. She really didn't like Eric's tone, and something possessive was starting to kick in. "Have you heard of the Marauder Foundation?" she asked.

Eric thought about the name for a moment. "I think I remember reading about it in the paper," he said. "They bought out a whole street of houses in London for some kind of orphanage, didn't they? Does your boyfriend work for them?"

Hermione just nodded.

"It's a good gig then?"

"Oh yes," she said. "Very good. I'm actually attending one of their first fundraisers on Sunday evening."

They were interrupted by the return of Sarah, who plonked herself down on the bench right beside Hermione. "What's happening on Sunday?" she asked, desperate to get up to speed on their conversation.

"Hermione's going to a fundraiser with her boyfriend on Sunday," Eric said, sounding a bit more resigned about the situation. There was, undoubtedly, still a bit of bitterness in his tone but Hermione was sure that it would eventually fade away.

Sarah looked at her. "You have a boyfriend?"

"He works for the Marauder Foundation," Eric piped in.

Sarah squealed. "Oh my God, why didn't you tell me you have a boyfriend?" she asked in a hurry. "I've practically been throwing the two of you at each other."

Hermione dropped her gaze but refused to respond.

Then, Sarah asked a question that made Hermione's breath hitch. "Wait, did you say Sunday? When is your meet-and-greet?"

"My what?"

"With your faculty," she said, meeting Hermione's gaze. "They scheduled them for this upcoming week. They're supposedly compulsory. Especially if you're doing a double major. They like to know all the students."

Hermione thought back to her orientation schedule. When was her meet-and-greet? That hadn't been on the original timetable. She would have remembered. "I should probably go and check," she said, using the opportunity to excuse herself. The farewell was quick, with Hermione promising to meet up with Sarah the very next day for breakfast.

Hermione couldn't help her slight panic as she made the short walk to her dormitories. She was living in a rather tall building, full of other girls studying towards their undergraduate degrees. She'd met a few of them during the dormitory's own orientations but she wasn't yet friendly with any. It would take time, she was sure.

It'd taken some time with Harry and Ron. And, really, if they hadn't saved her from that mountain troll; would they ever have truly been friends?

And now she was more than friends with Harry. Finally.

How could they have both almost missed it?

The more Hermione thought about it; the clearer it became. _She'd_ almost missed it because nothing had really ever changed. Sure, they started sleeping together, but that was just part of the arrangement. Nothing _else_ had actually changed.

They'd been _dating_ well before their arrangement, and continued to _date_ right through it. Goodness, Ron was right about everything, wasn't he? There was no way that she and Harry would have been able to get back to the way things were before. She'd _known._ She remembered thinking it just after they decided to do this.

She would never tell Ron though. He'd get way too much satisfaction out of it.

Which was the main reason she'd agreed to go along with this elaborate scheme of Harry's. But now there was a spanner in the works. _Of course_ there was.

Once Hermione was back in her bedroom, she quickly searched through her faculty package and groaned when she spied the amendment they'd attached to her initial schedule. With what she learned, she was forced to send off a message to Harry, informing him that she was going to be home in an hour, and she needed to talk to him about something important. She knew he would be home later anyway, but now he knew to expect her. And, if she were being completely honest with herself; she missed him quite terribly.

Somehow, Hermione managed to get some work done. The student in her was itching for classes to start, but she was definitely enjoying the entire orientation experience. The university really went all out to welcome the new students, and Hermione was enjoying her academic experience as a Muggle.

By the time she was supposed to meet Harry, Hermione had what she would tell him all planned out, though she was definitely surprised by what she found when she Apparated straight into his bedroom, a smile already spreading across her face.

"Harry," she said, laughing. "Where on earth are your clothes?"

Harry sat up from where he was lying on his bed - completely naked, save for his glasses and socks - and grinned at her. "Well, you said you were coming home," he said innocently.

"To talk."

He shrugged. "Same thing."

Hermione shook her head. "No, I _really_ need to talk to you, so I need you to put on some clothes."

"Why can't you just talk to me like this?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Please can you just put on some clothes?"

The way she said it made his grin fall away. Silently, he got up and got dressed, before moving to sit at the end of his bed. He waited patiently as she started to pace in front of him, worrying him. "Hermione, what's wrong? Did something happen?"

She looked at him. "I need to know something, Harry."

"Anything."

"How important is it that I accompany you to the ball?" she asked. "Because there's this, supposedly compulsory, faculty meet-and-greet on Sunday evening, and I thought, you know, I could skip it; but I don't think that I can, and I don't want to disappoint you, but this is also important and I don't know, it might be - "

"Hermione," he said, gently cutting her off. "Breathe."

She laughed lightly. "Sorry."

Harry stood up and moved towards her. He put his hands on her waist and forced her to look at him. "Don't worry about the ball, okay?" he said, trying to ease her mind. "It was just going to be my trying to get money from rich, stuffy people anyway."

"But it's your big night," she countered, sighing as she automatically slipped her arms around his neck. "It's the first time you really get to put forward all your brilliant ideas, and I want to be there to see it."

"We can borrow someone's memory of it," he said.

"Maybe I can come after," she said thoughtfully. "I mean, I doubt it'll take all that long, right?"

"Even if it does; it won't matter," he said. "I don't want you to worry, okay?"

Hermione's fingers played with the hairs on the nape of his neck. "But we had a whole plan."

"Did we?"

She laughed. "Maybe this is better," she said quietly. "This way, the evening won't be about us."

"Well, I was kind of looking forward to it," he admitted. "I really wanted to stick it to the press, you know? It would be great to be like, hah, I totally managed to fall in love with this amazing girl, and none of you suckers even knew!"

Hermione stiffened, her eyes bulging. "You what?"

Harry also tensed, suddenly realising what he'd said. "Uh..."

Hermione blinked. "You love me?"

Harry thought about denying it; of possibly playing it off as a slip of the tongue. The last thing he wanted to do was say or do something that would make her run. Because, technically, they'd _just_ started to date, and now he loved her. What was he thinking? "Uhm..."

"Harry?" she prompted.

He steeled himself, realising that avoiding it had almost led to their ruin before. He was going to do better this time around, so he opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione beat him to it.

"Because I love you too," she rushed. "I mean, of course I love you. I thought you knew."

He just blinked, processing her words. He wasn't sure what to say at this point, so he resolved to do the one thing he knew he was somewhat good at: he kissed her. Despite all the kissing that they'd done since the start of their arrangement; this kiss was different. They'd kissed passionately, sultrily, and for the hell of it. But this one was emotional. Deeply, deeply _emotional_.

Eric who?

The moment that Hermione's hands snuck under his t-shirt and started to lift it up; Harry began to laugh. He pulled away to look at her face, his facial expression deathly amused.

"What did I tell you?" he asked, wrapping a strand of her hair around his right forefinger. "You just made me get dressed for no reason."

Hermione glared at him for a moment, before her hands came to rest on his chest. "I just don't want you to think that, every time I come home; it'll be for sex."

Harry stuck out his bottom lip. "It won't?"

She raised an eyebrow. "What if I just wanted to see you?"

"Naked?"

Hermione shook her head in utter defeat. "What am I ever going to do with you?"

He grinned at her. "I already told you that you'd never live a boring life with me, Hermione," he said, bouncing slightly. "And I think that we both decided that I'm rather kissable, so, you know, you could just kiss me."

So she did.

It was only much later, well after Harry fell asleep, that Hermione fully realised that Harry Potter had actually told her that he loved _her_ , Hermione Granger. It wasn't particularly surprising, but it was definitely still overwhelming. After tonight; after the way that he'd looked at her, it felt like he _owned_ her. She was his, and he was hers. By mutual - silent - agreement; they would never belong to another.

But now that they were _together_ ; Hermione felt a lot calmer about officially starting at St Andrew's.

Hermione felt _happy_. This was her life now. She was about to embark on the next chapter of her academic life, and there was this perfect boy who loved her. He loved her, always in some new and exciting way. Because, truly, every day since the _admittance_ of initial mutual feelings had been a dream. A terrifying, happy, sappy, sex-crazed dream.

For some reason, Hermione couldn't get to sleep. Slowly, she disentangled herself from Harry's grasp and climbed out of bed. She quietly got dressed, and then left his room, in search of _something_. What she found was an extremely drunk Ronald Weasley slumped in an armchair in the living room, his eyes barely open.

It took Ron quite a while to notice her, and he jumped at the sight of her. "Hermione!" he squeaked, clutching at his chest. "What are you doing here?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I could ask you the same question."

"I live here," he said, slurring slightly.

"As do I."

He shrugged, as he struggled to sit up. "I see you're talking to me now."

Hermione heaved a sigh, as she moved further into the room and sat down on the couch. A couch that held _way_ too many memories. Really, she couldn't look one place in this apartment and not see Harry in some way. He was everywhere. And, really, there wasn't a place she'd been or a moment she'd experienced in the last two months that wasn't somehow marked by him.

"What did I do to deserve this honour?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're being awfully dramatic, aren't you?"

"Am I?" he snapped. "How would you feel if your two best friend weren't talking to you?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I actually do know what that feels like," she said, blatantly referring to the broomstick incident during their third year.

Ron glared at her. "I suppose it would be worse if you were actually _not_ together," he said accusingly. "I mean, I'm not entirely dumb, Hermione."

Despite the severity of the conversation, Hermione burst out laughing. It was uncontrollable laughter, which had Ron quickly joining in. It was the stupid kind of laughter that made absolutely no sense, and yet they couldn't stop.

"Are you planning on telling people any time soon?" he asked after a while. "Or are you enjoying punishing me?"

"Do you feel like you're being punished?"

He nodded yes. "Though, for what, I don't know. I mean, I was just trying to help, and I just don't understand... Harry was _so_ angry, Hermione, and I don't know why. You're _together_ , for Merlin's sake."

"We almost weren't," she informed him. "We almost missed it, Ron, and I think he blames you for it."

"Why?"

"Because we weren't ready for the change," she said thoughtfully. "I mean, sure, perhaps sooner or later we would have figured it out, but we weren't ready, and it was almost like you were forcing us to make a change we weren't ready for."

Ron nodded in understanding. "And now?"

She smiled gently. "I love him."

Ron shook his head, trying to clear it. "He believes that you're the one for forever, Hermione. Are you as serious about him as he is about you?"

Hermione merely nodded.

Ron sighed. "Would you believe me if I told you I always knew it would happen?"

"No."

"Well, I did," he said happily, just managing to sit up straight.

"Don't be so smug about it," she commented, smiling at him.

"Smug is my middle name."

"It's Bilius."

Ron grimaced. "There's no chance of you ever forgetting that, is there?"

"Of course not, Weasley," she said, winking at him. "In this brain of mine it shall forever remain."

Ron closed his eyes. "Merlin, shut up; you're starting to give me a headache."

"You've been giving me a headache ever since we met."

Despite the insult, Ron laughed. "And that is exactly why we never would have worked out. You have more patience for Harry, and he does for you as well."

"Quite the pair, aren't we?"

"The Wizarding World won't even know what's hit them."

Hermione offered him a small smile. "That's the plan."

* * *

As expected, the ball was a complete and utter success. From the many VIPs to the numerous local and foreign dignitaries; it was turning into a night to remember. Harry was busy the entire night, making conversation with people both old and new. It was endless chatting up and talking about what he'd been doing for the past year.

Harry had gone into the evening with a prepared list of responses to the questions he knew were surely to come. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable talking about his year-long sabbatical, but he drew the line when they pried a little too much into his recovery from the War. Didn't they know that he was _still_ recovering? The atrocities he'd witnessed didn't just go away, despite how busy he tried to keep himself.

It was in the quiet moments that he truly missed Hermione. He just hoped that she was having a good time at her meet-and-greet, forging relationships with her relationships by showing off her intense logic and scary intelligence.

Harry, of course, was roped into dancing with various witches, and he could tell that many of the single ones - and some not quite so single - were just waiting for him to make his pick for the evening. He was going to have to disappoint them and he was finally prepared to use the excuse that he was _taken_ quite proudly.

Harry didn't notice when Hermione arrived. He was getting himself a drink at the bar, drawing out the action as much as possible. It was one of the first times he was actually alone for any length of time and he was going to savour it.

Hermione approached him as soon as she spotted him. He was the only person she wanted to see anyway. And boy did he look handsome.

"Harry," Hermione said softly, forcing him to turn and look at her. "Will you dance with me?" she asked.

His face broke out into a wide smile at the sight of her. The entire world seemed to fall away in that moment, and it was just the two of them. "I didn't think you'd come," he said softly, putting out his hand for her to take and proceeding to lead her to the dance floor. "Did you duck out early on account of me?"

"Definitely."

"I'm a terrible influence, aren't I?" he teased, pulling her towards him when they came to a stop, and slipped his other arm around her waist. "I'm so glad that you're here."

Hermione started them moving. It was a slow dance, and Harry held her nice and close, her body pressed against his. "I was probably the worst person to be around earlier," she admitted. "I was completely distracted, and I just couldn't sit still... but I feel better now."

"As do I," he whispered, hugging her closer.

Hermione just leaned into him as they danced, closing out the successful evening the way any other couple would: together.

Harry was the one to break their silence. "Thank you for coming," he said softly. "I didn't even realise how much I needed to have you here tonight until you got here."

Her eyes drifted to a point over Harry's shoulder, where Ginny was standing and gaping at the two of them. "Oh boy."

"What?"

"I'm guessing that Ginny will have a ton of questions for me," she said tiredly. "Oh, and by the way, Ron knows that we were messing with him."

"I know," he said, laughing lightly. "He was a little too concerned about the fact that you weren't here with me when I arrived."

"You've got to work on your Marauder-ways, Mr Potter."

"I'll bear that in mind for the future, Miss Granger."

Once again, they settled into a comfortable silence, as they danced a further three songs. Eventually though, Harry mentioned that it was probably time for him to do the final rounds and thank everyone for attending the ball.

"I'll be with Ginny if you need me," she said, stepping out of his embrace.

"I'll always need you."

Hermione started to wonder if this was how it would always be with him. Would there always be these endless moments of cute sentiments and profound words? Would he still continue with his deep declarations now that they were together?

Harry couldn't resist pulling her closer one more time and placing a gentle kiss against her temple. A flash went off somewhere, and he just knew that the picture would be in the early edition newspapers in the morning.

Hermione didn't move out of his embrace. "This is it then, isn't it?"

"It's a good thing the night is over," he said softly, his breath warm against her forehead. "I believe that I made us quite some money, Miss Granger. The orphanage should be able to begin construction as soon as the plans are finalised."

Hermione kissed his cheek. "I really am so proud of you," she informed him. "Truly, Harry."

"That's one of my greatest accomplishments already, Hermione."

She sighed happily. "We're going to be okay, aren't we?"

Harry nodded. "You and me, Hermione; we've got a love that even a blind man can see."

She looked him in the eye. Yes, yes it would always be like this with him. "I love you, Harry Potter."

He grinned at her. "I love you too, Hermione Granger."

* * *

It was rather late when Hermione made it back to her dormitory after her first full day of classes. She'd lost herself immersed in her lectures and tutorials. She's truly missed _learning_ , and she intended to do all she could, now that, well, Harry wasn't constantly around to distract her.

Hermione was lucky enough to have a single room. Or not exactly _lucky_. She may or may not have used a bit of magic to make it happen. Harry had just raised an eyebrow when he told her, but he made no comment. It was better he didn't, because she really did it for _him_. It had nothing to do with the fact that she didn't want to end up with a roommate like Lavender or Parvati.

It wasn't that she hadn't _liked_ her room mates; it was just that they didn't exactly prioritise the same things. So she was glad for her single room. It also offered her the chance to have her boyfriend spend the night without anyone knowing. It was against the rules of the dormitory, she knew, but there was no way that Hermione Granger could survive any substantial amount of time without Harry Potter in her bed.

As soon as she entered her room, Hermione could sense him. She couldn't tell if it was his magic she could feel, or just his excitement. Either way, she knew he was in the room, so she set her bag down by her desk and waited for him to reveal himself.

Harry took his time. He didn't show himself immediately. In fact, the first thing he did was switch off the lights, plunging them both into darkness. Before her eyes could even adjust to the new lighting, Harry practically tackled her onto her bed, moving to lie on top of her, his hands already roaming and his mouth doing wonderfully naughty things.

"Harry," she whispered, a stupid smile already on her face and her fingers flying into his hair. "What are you doing here?"

"I missed you," he growled, his teeth scraping along the line of her jaw. "So. Fucking. Much."

"It's been two days," she pointed out, squirming beneath him.

"And your point is?"

Hermione took in a sharp breath when his right hand snuck under her top and caressed the smooth skin of her abdomen. "I have nothing," she said, sighing happily.

"I take it you missed me too then?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him close to her. "How did you even get in here?" she asked, speaking into his ear and making him shiver.

Harry kissed her collarbone. "Well, I arrived wearing my Cloak," he explained, his breath making _her_ shiver. "And then I kind of hung out in front of your dorm until I could sneak in through an open door." He lifted his head to look at her face. "And then I somehow had to get into the elevator; and then I found your room, and I picked the lock, and I - "

Hermione abruptly cut him off by pulling his head down for another bruising kiss. "Later."

 _Fin_


End file.
